POEM: Knot the Boss of Me

Last night, at a poetry reading, a fellow poet, Joe Sparks, introduced his poem as “the last poem of 2025.” This sparked this poem…

Knot the Boss of Me

He declared
With surprising certainty
Sow free from doubt
Heed ridden his last poem of the year
Such a confidence, man
I’m not sure I no
Who you work for
In what likely hood
And what
Over seeing
At any rate
It peers clear too me
Dam well knot the boss of me
If there is won thing
I new
Amor, then a few daze remaining
Even in the dead of winter
As a season of wrapping up
Every our
Closer
To spring
From that omni-present lover
The soul certainty
Surprising

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POEM: That Net Positivity

I suspect that the piles of evidence brought to bear as to weather life is bettor characterized as kind or cruel, soulful or heartless, is probably 50/50, perhaps making it awe the amor important to be caught in that net positivity…

That Net Positivity

As far as his most cherished beliefs
Could take him
He took little for granite
Though won could be
That extra ordinary seeing
Wear everything as a gift
Caught in that net positivity
Effacing unbelievable negativity
That whirled stage set
A mist costume changes, masks, and hats
Characters of awe sorts
Both sketchy and deep
Practiced dialogue
And improvs without nets of any sort
A weigh of being
And the backbone of act too
Beyond being word a bout performance
The show going on
Whatever
Planned
As the gods laugh
And cry
Out
End seeing
Awe together
Soully hoping
Fore something amor
Perhaps vane make believe
A good run of it
This tragicomedy of a whirled
Called
Life
And that dreaded review
Making a horror of hour self
As per chants mirrorly
Bettor
Then nothing
Presence
Passed
Long
Abetting

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POEM: Butterfly Lands

And still, I wait for it…

Butterfly Lands

Lonely after
A life sow long
Wandering soully
Can I go on
Believing
When I least expect it
And what do I know
A butterfly lands
At that very moment
What does it
Mean
Peace
In udder silence
Who can say
Just
A sign
As I was
A butterfly
In awe truth
Landing

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POEM: Owed to Venezuelan Oil, Tank Her

Drug to war on drugs. What will, we knot think of next?! It’s the oil, stupid…

Owed to Venezuelan Oil, Tank Her

Captain Kook
And his Peter
At the war deportment
Squeal in de-light
In piracy on the high C’s
A crude lessen
For Venezuelan narc
O traffickers
Be where
Offed
Coarse
Gringos just
Keeping
Up with the joneses
As a shot
In the arms industry
Oar a political climate change
A dressing
Our petroleum diction
Getting to the bottom
Tanked
Drill, baby, drill!
That sinking feeling
Awe a boat
A fentanyl thing
Or whatever
A crack, pot policy
Americans killing it!

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POEM: Without Papers

I am certifiable but technically not certified…

Without Papers

I woke
In God knows where
In plays
Bound soully
By rivers, mountains, and sky
Unknown to imaginary lines of men
Where awe is well
Free
Flowing
Beyond dammed nations
In compassing
That treasure map
Incite of you
Without papers

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POEM: The Meat Cute

This poem is on the topic of veganism. the practice of not eating animal products. This poem and its title centers on what I find as a weird divergence among many serious animal lovers (read pet lovers) who don’t give a second thought to killing animals for food.

The Meat Cute

Who is too quest in
The reigning of kittens and puppies
And chicks for a wile
When we meat
That inexpressible attitude
Of what’s eating you
And you eating what
As if
Pet virtues
Sum diminutive morality
Blind too obvious
Awwwwwe
Can you see it
In the I’s of those be helled
Butt what does that have too due
With the prize of beef
Getting ugly
Bringing homme the bacon
Sum agreeable pork
As ahead less chauvinism
In the mettle of specious
And spur us to be sporting
As we are
What
We eat
Dinning on
Re-hearsing eternally
Up on deaf ears
Until we are horse
Or wear ever
We draw the lyin’
Leather effaced
Ante-cute egging on
Or cheesily milking moms
For all its worth
Amor bid tell
The deference
A mist sentient and sentiment
The strange fruit
Of a romance of meat
Cute
Slavish devotion
Or dis tasteful
With respect of looks
Or not
And who or what remains
Cannibalizing a slew of gods
In image maid
Even in a vile
Perhaps monstrously good
And still
In the end
We peer
As whatever
Thou dust
As time a bridge
In what will be
Momentary freshness
Getting into
Sum eerie realty
As awe tastes like chicken
And what madders
To awe
Is out of sight
And out of mine
That endless love a fair
And bizaar
Which may vary well
Begin and end
With a meat cute

NOTE: A meet cute is a scene in romantic fiction in which two people meet for the first time, typically under unusual, humorous, or adorable circumstances, and go on to form a future romantic couple.

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What ̂ a Choice ̂ Life

Beware of unsolicited prophets out and about…

What ̂ a Choice ̂ Life

As I was
Busy wading
For something too happen
Pretty much anything
The man
On the bench
Offered me
Unsolicited ad
Vice
What you no
Could fill a hole
Life
Which is awe most
As crazy
As sane yes

NOTE: For the title of this poem, I invented a new form of punctuation. When there are multiple ways to read my words, sometimes a space or a comma or a line break are not enough for emphasis and a clue.

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POEM: Birdbrains AND Muscle Aheads

I suspect that many of those talking about talk being cheap and extolling action score low on both uplifting talk and enlightened action…

Birdbrains AND Muscle Aheads

We have been flocked
Agin and agin
Buy the very birdbrains
Singing oft key
Talk is cheep
Talk is cheep
Talk is cheep
We are due
Do do
Do do
Awe over
Like a cheep suit them
As the truth flies
Far above
That talking shit
As partial to them
What truth can
Be had
Inaction on won’s own
As everything ails
See gall
Sow trying and trying
To make you
Their beach
On fool display
In bare assing throngs
As if soully muscle aheads
Contemplation no
And speech knot
Birdbrains AND muscle aheads
Thinking there the hole deal
As go go go

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POEM: A Lulu of a Year

I wrote this poem in honor of our oldest grandchild’s first birthday. Seven years young now.

A Lulu of a Year

Lovely little lady Lulu
You are a gift to us awe
Or more precisely: awwwwww
12-9-18
The perfect combination
Of utter exhaustion and bounding joy
May you ever grow up
With presence beyond description

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POEM: Giddy, Up

I am happy to report that I frequently get giddy at the awesomeness of life…

Giddy, Up

I cried out
For knew normal
A cross ages
Through and through daze
Over and over agin
Until be for
I new it
Got win of myself
In undated timeless joy
As overwhelmed bye
Awe that is aloud
Soully to find myself
As being
A little hoarse
Uncorralled
By the common plays
A bounding up on me
Calling me out
Gently whooping me
In my aside
With those ethereal spurs of the moment
Giddy
Up
Up
And a way

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POEM: Rorschach Testy

We live in a decrepit age where the state of the body politic is more closely connected to projecting our dark dreams onto our elected leaders than a reflection of actual policies. Apparently, we need less policy analysts and more psychotherapists who can analyze political Rorschach tests…

Rorschach Testy

He took
A Rorschach test he
Yet agin
He took
A Rorschach test
Flailing in his attest
Over and over
The same owed same owed
As a knew
As yet an other peers
Regard less
As it turns out
The Rorschach test is US
Sow telling
More a bout US
Then any
Singular leader
Getting
Bent
On the ruse of law
And taken
Buy won’s own authority
Subjects impressed
By that ink-ling
Of that dear
In the ahead light
Leader
Dispensing more
Then our dark asides
Are disposed to admit
In getting
A kick
Plumb out of those balls
In Rorschach testies

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POEM: Will Fullness

Many people at many times consider the force of will as a key to success in life. I find that willingness is the more powerful juice in cultivating well being in life. I don’t see this necessarily as an either/or issue; I see abundant willingness powering up the judicious use of will…

Will Fullness

Willfulness has its plays
When it co-habits
In a sea of willingness
And its import
It not a tax
Up on pain of doody
As a flat-out will
Better offed
Bared at see

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POEM: Vary Religious

I, awe ways, found it, eerily convenient that so many people happen to be born into the one true religion…

Vary Religious

Borne as a Christian
Again and agin
I have rapt myself
In 144 metaphysical practices
If won
In grossed
Buy spiritual traditions
Parently as sacred techs
Abut awe in awe
Its bin
Good forum me
Cleaving too as won
Awe that is
Holy a ledged
Peering in
That unfathomable gape
Soully to stair up and stare down
Weigh existential quest ins
And what due you no
As it turns out
I AM
Vary religious
I am awe in

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POEM: Shakespeare – Owed to Dead White Men

This poem is a tip of the hat to the staying power of  Bill Shakespeare — or for Macbeth fans, stain power [blood on hands, “out damn spot”]…

Shakespeare – Owed to Dead White Men

His dogged rep
Sticks around
Out damn spot!
And spite
His long past expiration date
Yet remains
Quite full of inspiration

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POEM: Blue Prince of Life

I wrote this poem on the occasion of my friend Sean Nestor’s 40th birthday. There is a lot to unpack — just as with Sean! I gave a simple framed copy of this poem, without author info, to unsully the obvious. More importantly, I hand-wrote the poem inside one of my favorite books, Soul’s Code, by James Hillman, a Jungian psychologist. I included this link, appliedjung.com/a-blue-fire/, to provide a detailed background on James Hillman, and to elucidate the reference to “Blue” in the title, beyond the allusion to melancholy. The book, Soul’s Code: In Search of Character and Calling, is an epic attempt at a holistic view of meaning in one’s life, in sharp contrast to the reductionistic means that dominate western culture. I suspect that this book would be refreshing for anyone who has experienced being reduced to something less than.

Blue Prince of Life

There is a character
Named Sean
Destined to be free
Sow becoming
Soully what he can be
Or whatever
It’s called
Wear universal truths
Go to dye
And are borne
As colorful biographical realities

Sean has the rare privilege, unduplicated so far, of two dedicated poems to them, outside of family members. The first was on the occasion of his 29th birthday: More Than, a Nester — Owed to Seán Nestor, in honor of his 29th birthday

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POEM: Unkept

This short poem is a companion poem to the poem following it, written 12 years earlier. This poem offers a different view of my bursting heart: one of overflowing joy rather than sadness. Both happen to be true — sometimes at the same time…

Unkept

My heart bursts without notice
Joy bubbling up enstrange whirleds
And other plays
The proprietors due
Declare me
Unkempt

My Heart Breaks Daily

My heart breaks daily
Spilling out into the streets
And other public places.
The authorities instruct me
To clean it up.

To see the brief commentary on this latter poem, go here: https://toppun.com/blog/2013/04/29/poem-heart-breaks-daily/

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POEM: Re-framed?

A friend once called me “the king of re-framing.” I just see this as taking any experience or situation and making sense of it through the frame of my world view, my most basic assumptions about the world.  I strongly suspect that Albert Einstein nailed it with what he viewed as the most important question facing humanity: “Is the universe a friendly place?” I say “Yes.” His assessment of how we answer this question is quoted after the poem…

Re-framed?

Wear experiencing
Loss, pain, or sadness
I sow covet
What may be
Due
Reframing my perspective
Expanding to the largesse possible
At times doing a 360
Still
In the same plays
Yet feeled as sow much amor
And if fortune truly peers
Granted real eyes
There is no frame at awe
Soully a surpassing grace
Beyond my own
Dreaming

Albert Einstein put it this way:

“I think the most important question facing humanity is, ‘Is the universe a friendly place?’ This is the first and most basic question all people must answer for themselves.

“For if we decide that the universe is an unfriendly place, then we will use our technology, our scientific discoveries and our natural resources to achieve safety and power by creating bigger walls to keep out the unfriendliness and bigger weapons to destroy all that which is unfriendly and I believe that we are getting to a place where technology is powerful enough that we may either completely isolate or destroy ourselves as well in this process.

“If we decide that the universe is neither friendly nor unfriendly and that God is essentially ‘playing dice with the universe’, then we are simply victims to the random toss of the dice and our lives have no real purpose or meaning.

“But if we decide that the universe is a friendly place, then we will use our technology, our scientific discoveries and our natural resources to create tools and models for understanding that universe. Because power and safety will come through understanding its workings and its motives.”

“God does not play dice with the universe.”

 

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POEM: Corporate Toons – Owed to Commercial Soundtracks

One of my pet peeves is great songs being commercialized to sell crap. The commercial that triggered this poem included the bastardization of a Johnny Cash song…

Corporate Toons – Owed to Commercial Soundtracks

Every thing is for sail
In the see of commerce
How grate thou art
Put your sail out
And harbor what
Re-sent meant
That commercial weigh
Of what life can
Be bought
And that soul rent
For a song
That echo of an original
Fooly rigged
That hole sail
As pain the billed
That irresistible take-homme pay
Of what might be
Afar too easy take
Of a plausibly proprietary lyric

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POEM: Frank and Steinway

I recently saw the newest movie version of Frankenstein, by Guillermo del Toro. I highly recommend. This poem is inspired by this classic story and epic film, a meditation on the soul fooly melodic themes of life and death hauntingly interwoven…

Frank and Steinway

He was wholly played
A power-grater
Then himself
Hauntingly beauty full
Frankly, quiet sad
Between the notes
Some wear a mist
The quick and the dead
Keys black and white
Frankly played
Over and over
Agin’ hour soul
A victor and looser for
Helled together
Buy how ever scarred
Imparts are parts
Aparts are aparts
As hole sum how
Soul fooly melodic
Played grandly
As sum kind of pianist envy
Amor then herd
Amor then a loan
In life
And death
Mercy
And fearsome
Turning up
Fore what might be
Life and deaf
Accosting amor
Then a song

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POEM: Basket Cases

Follow the light…in both life and death…

Basket Cases

“Is a lamp brought in to be put under a basket, or under a bed, and not on a stand?”
– Mark 4:21

There is
The light of the good knews
That shining best
In darkness
Impossible to measure
Accept buy cases of baskets
We do not create light
But we may be
Keepers
In the darkest mine
Singing like a canary
Knowing we are not dead
Yet
We awe have hour miner issues
Too weather any given climate
Whither measured by
Light years or bushels
The ruler of awe
Hour greatest fear
That light has nothing on
Darkness

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