As man expired His last Once agin Mother Nature breathed in A parent excrement Concrete and steel Leaving not Even a scratch In geologic time Merely having caught a cold Cold virus Feverish bout Something to sneeze about Un-till returning To natural appetites Where awe is better than knew In the tree of knowledge With wisdom of what can and cannot be forest Upon Mother Nature
Ultimately, this poem is a testament to the sustaining and healing power of Mother Nature. So many times I am struck by the unsustainable practices of so-called civilization. While I am not confident that humankind (unkind?) will be able to avert a monumental collapse of civilization as we know it today, I suspect that humans will survive in some form. Similarly, I strongly suspect than nature will survive. I suspect that humans are not smart enough, nor stupid enough, to end life on this planet. I suspect that humans are not strong enough, nor weak enough, to end life on this planet. While our blind greed is frighteningly persistent, this poem is one vision of Mother Nature, quite naturally, recovering from a virus and fever, and returning to health. Mother Nature is awesome and powerful. In this envisioned scenario, humans don’t make it, at least not in any form resembling our current civilization. In the first line of the poem, I reference the word “man” as expiring, that is, lowercase man, not humankind. I snuck this in as an opening to survive, if in fact, in the yin and yang of life, the patriarchal male force is brought into balance with the nurturing/healing female force. I don’t think that it is any accident that nature, Mother Nature, is typically viewed as female across many human cultures. If we don’t respect females, then we are doomed to an existence far short of our awesome potential, or, perhaps, simply doomed to extinction. May we as a species, one among many, find a balance befitting the awesome benevolence of Mother Nature.
POEM: Innocence — An Owed In A Sense Her innocence Was immune to their dis ease As be wilder And a tempt However tempered Only to be Dis missed As just A guile His innocence Deified awe bravery In the face Of accusations summoned As subdude As never a cur to them Posing the quest in Guise will Be guise Her bosom leaped […]...
JUST FOR THE HEALTH OF IT: Public Health Radio Show on WAKT 106.1 FM Toledo JUST FOR THE HEALTH OF IT: Public Health Radio Show on WAKT 106.1 FM Toledo Just for the Health of It is my weekly half-hour public health show on WAKT, 106.1 FM Toledo. You can listen at 9:00 AM Tuesdays and Thursdays (after Democracy NOW) on-air or on-line ToledoRadio.org. To listen anytime you want online, […]...
POEM: Breath of Fresh Heir Each mourning Brings that which is light Though wanting to rest As the whirled spins under my feet I am Still Razed Too my feat Standing on Perhaps a singular word Mysteriously helled Together In God-ordained gravity Until that thirst Breath of fresh heir As awe is knew This poem is about coming out of […]...
Several homes Down There is A child molester You can’t no For sure Buddies sow nice Too those knew Kids on the block How could you Warn up to him Surly there are other neighbors Axing the question What shitty do Especially iffing correct The prize to be paid From phallus testimony And illicit probes In the end Assessing what is Dear In the light Of what is Dumb Struck Buy that veritable truth It is awe In the risk And neighboring accountability
This poem is about the all-too-common tragic trauma that child sexual abuse wreaks on its victims, their families and the community. More specifically, this poem deals with the responsibility that we have toward one another, especially children as potential victims. Child molestation and sexual assault is perpetuated by silence. Perpetrators can only continue their crimes if targets or victims are silenced by threat or shame. Such silencing also depends on adults in a child’s community turning the other way when suspicions are raised. Also, a child’s community may not be supportive enough for the child to feel that they will be believed or feel safe in saying anything. This poem arose from a conversation with someone who found great difficulty in potentially wrongly accusing someone of something very serious. My perspective is that this is precisely why we need to deal decisively with any suspected child endangerment, because it is so serious. Such hesitation, which in my view quite reliably chooses doing too little, strikes me as far more dangerous than being a little too ardent in protecting children. Plus, in larger terms, perpetrators are typically also victims who end up perpetuating a cycle of abuse. Perpetrators also need a community that can hold them accountable and offer real help to them, not just enabling. May we act vigilantly to build supportive communities that are committed to protect children and provide compassionate care and healing for all victims.
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JUST FOR THE HEALTH OF IT: Public Health Radio Show on WAKT 106.1 FM Toledo JUST FOR THE HEALTH OF IT: Public Health Radio Show on WAKT 106.1 FM Toledo Just for the Health of It is my weekly half-hour public health show on WAKT, 106.1 FM Toledo. You can listen at 9:00 AM Tuesdays and Thursdays (after Democracy NOW) on-air or on-line ToledoRadio.org. To listen anytime you want online, […]...
POEM: Innocence — An Owed In A Sense Her innocence Was immune to their dis ease As be wilder And a tempt However tempered Only to be Dis missed As just A guile His innocence Deified awe bravery In the face Of accusations summoned As subdude As never a cur to them Posing the quest in Guise will Be guise Her bosom leaped […]...
POEM: Breath of Fresh Heir Each mourning Brings that which is light Though wanting to rest As the whirled spins under my feet I am Still Razed Too my feat Standing on Perhaps a singular word Mysteriously helled Together In God-ordained gravity Until that thirst Breath of fresh heir As awe is knew This poem is about coming out of […]...
Her gentle generosity Levels a see of petty lacks Her abundant kindness Overwhelms any insecurity Her abiding faith Shrinks fear two size Her steadfast patience Outlasts wistful worries Her joy Outshines any mourn Her bounding gratitude Is a magnet For awe good things Her’s is a perfect storm Flooding my body and soul with love Leaving no hope, nor desire, for escape As I am Only to be Perpetually satisfied With the her And now
Since today is Valentine’s Day, please enjoy this love poem that I wrote for the love of my life. This one is for public consumption; however, most of the poetry that I write for her is for her eyes only…
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POEM: Breath of Fresh Heir Each mourning Brings that which is light Though wanting to rest As the whirled spins under my feet I am Still Razed Too my feat Standing on Perhaps a singular word Mysteriously helled Together In God-ordained gravity Until that thirst Breath of fresh heir As awe is knew This poem is about coming out of […]...
JUST FOR THE HEALTH OF IT: Public Health Radio Show on WAKT 106.1 FM Toledo JUST FOR THE HEALTH OF IT: Public Health Radio Show on WAKT 106.1 FM Toledo Just for the Health of It is my weekly half-hour public health show on WAKT, 106.1 FM Toledo. You can listen at 9:00 AM Tuesdays and Thursdays (after Democracy NOW) on-air or on-line ToledoRadio.org. To listen anytime you want online, […]...
POEM: Innocence — An Owed In A Sense Her innocence Was immune to their dis ease As be wilder And a tempt However tempered Only to be Dis missed As just A guile His innocence Deified awe bravery In the face Of accusations summoned As subdude As never a cur to them Posing the quest in Guise will Be guise Her bosom leaped […]...
Is it just Another day Like any other Inner changeable Who could tell? And there I was Mining my own busyness When it came to pass God winked at me I timidly wavered back Yet setting off A sparkle in my eye Leaving me feeling A little more catchy
Few people claim to literally hearing God speak, and the title of this poem, God’s Tell, is rather an allusion to a tell in poker, where a clue is revealed regarding what another player’s hand may be and how they might play it. Of course, for many people, poker is a serious matter, especially if discerning a tell is critical to a winning edge. I juxtaposed a wink as a playful and reassuring way of God communicating God’s hand and how God might play it. The chief complaint against God may be that God doesn’t implement justice in the way or timing that won might want. Perhaps the nature of spirit is more about playfulness and reassuring communication how we are “with” one another in whatever it is that they may be experiencing. For me, this can be an important insight into the nature of solidarity in justice work, standing with one another, though it highlights the process rather than simply just the outcome. Balancing our focus on the journey rather than simply the destination, may very well help us get there, and certainly offers a more pleasant option in enduring the many ups and downs in justice movements. Who knows, perhaps one of the main destinations, arrival points, is simply being with those around us on the journey.
More simply, this poem can be a serendipitous moment where we feel awe and are caught off-guard in the best of ways. May such moments be catchy!
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POEM: Breath of Fresh Heir Each mourning Brings that which is light Though wanting to rest As the whirled spins under my feet I am Still Razed Too my feat Standing on Perhaps a singular word Mysteriously helled Together In God-ordained gravity Until that thirst Breath of fresh heir As awe is knew This poem is about coming out of […]...
JUST FOR THE HEALTH OF IT: Public Health Radio Show on WAKT 106.1 FM Toledo JUST FOR THE HEALTH OF IT: Public Health Radio Show on WAKT 106.1 FM Toledo Just for the Health of It is my weekly half-hour public health show on WAKT, 106.1 FM Toledo. You can listen at 9:00 AM Tuesdays and Thursdays (after Democracy NOW) on-air or on-line ToledoRadio.org. To listen anytime you want online, […]...
POEM: Innocence — An Owed In A Sense Her innocence Was immune to their dis ease As be wilder And a tempt However tempered Only to be Dis missed As just A guile His innocence Deified awe bravery In the face Of accusations summoned As subdude As never a cur to them Posing the quest in Guise will Be guise Her bosom leaped […]...
The Democrats made me Due it In the end only Tempted bribery In awe I did In competence My soul motive Buy partisan ship A condemn nation urned As just US done With all the fix ins Sow what’s the big deal Surely you don’t want A nation of nancies And immigrants [insert off color joke hear] Whatever Accost
With the nearly seamless conspiracy and cover-up by senate Republicans, I feel that our nation is disabled and half of the country is making fun of it. Of course, Donald Trump, this half-ass satyr of a president, is leading the way by being the satire.
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JUST FOR THE HEALTH OF IT: Public Health Radio Show on WAKT 106.1 FM Toledo JUST FOR THE HEALTH OF IT: Public Health Radio Show on WAKT 106.1 FM Toledo Just for the Health of It is my weekly half-hour public health show on WAKT, 106.1 FM Toledo. You can listen at 9:00 AM Tuesdays and Thursdays (after Democracy NOW) on-air or on-line ToledoRadio.org. To listen anytime you want online, […]...
POEM: Innocence — An Owed In A Sense Her innocence Was immune to their dis ease As be wilder And a tempt However tempered Only to be Dis missed As just A guile His innocence Deified awe bravery In the face Of accusations summoned As subdude As never a cur to them Posing the quest in Guise will Be guise Her bosom leaped […]...
POEM: Breath of Fresh Heir Each mourning Brings that which is light Though wanting to rest As the whirled spins under my feet I am Still Razed Too my feat Standing on Perhaps a singular word Mysteriously helled Together In God-ordained gravity Until that thirst Breath of fresh heir As awe is knew This poem is about coming out of […]...
One serendipitous night I stumbled up On a most glorious site An indescribable rite When mortals have only their dreams She would sow free Pluck stars from the sky Only to sprinkle them On waking heads And hearts afresh As windows to the soul Are with sunbeams awash As darkness never remembered In awe that is knew In this day present
This whimsical poem is an ode to the mystery and rejuvenating powers of sleep that prepare us for a new day.
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POEM: Innocence — An Owed In A Sense Her innocence Was immune to their dis ease As be wilder And a tempt However tempered Only to be Dis missed As just A guile His innocence Deified awe bravery In the face Of accusations summoned As subdude As never a cur to them Posing the quest in Guise will Be guise Her bosom leaped […]...
JUST FOR THE HEALTH OF IT: Public Health Radio Show on WAKT 106.1 FM Toledo JUST FOR THE HEALTH OF IT: Public Health Radio Show on WAKT 106.1 FM Toledo Just for the Health of It is my weekly half-hour public health show on WAKT, 106.1 FM Toledo. You can listen at 9:00 AM Tuesdays and Thursdays (after Democracy NOW) on-air or on-line ToledoRadio.org. To listen anytime you want online, […]...
POEM: Breath of Fresh Heir Each mourning Brings that which is light Though wanting to rest As the whirled spins under my feet I am Still Razed Too my feat Standing on Perhaps a singular word Mysteriously helled Together In God-ordained gravity Until that thirst Breath of fresh heir As awe is knew This poem is about coming out of […]...
Thanks for nudging me From oblivion In too existence A billion years Of Sundays Ought too due Accept fore sustaining me Every nanosecond What have you Done form me Lately
I find a deep source of gratitude in that I won the existence lottery. Whatever complaints I may have about the nature of reality and my life seem petty when compared to the exquisite privilege of simply being alive. When I experience this perspective, I can tap into an unfathomably huge realm that I often take for granted — or, if you think that life is just complicated dirt: taken for granite. When I add to this perspective the notion that my sustained existence is also inexplicably miraculous, I can update my gratitude to the current moment, any given moment, any moment taken.
The title of this poem, God’s Lazy As, is a tip of the hat to the low-key role that God plays in awe of this. If this mystery of God seeming to hide out appears too baffling, or even insolvable, I find it helpful to consider the Victor Hugo quote from Les Miserables, “To love another person is to see the face of God.” This is the kind of in-your-face God that I love.
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POEM: Breath of Fresh Heir Each mourning Brings that which is light Though wanting to rest As the whirled spins under my feet I am Still Razed Too my feat Standing on Perhaps a singular word Mysteriously helled Together In God-ordained gravity Until that thirst Breath of fresh heir As awe is knew This poem is about coming out of […]...
JUST FOR THE HEALTH OF IT: Public Health Radio Show on WAKT 106.1 FM Toledo JUST FOR THE HEALTH OF IT: Public Health Radio Show on WAKT 106.1 FM Toledo Just for the Health of It is my weekly half-hour public health show on WAKT, 106.1 FM Toledo. You can listen at 9:00 AM Tuesdays and Thursdays (after Democracy NOW) on-air or on-line ToledoRadio.org. To listen anytime you want online, […]...
POEM: Innocence — An Owed In A Sense Her innocence Was immune to their dis ease As be wilder And a tempt However tempered Only to be Dis missed As just A guile His innocence Deified awe bravery In the face Of accusations summoned As subdude As never a cur to them Posing the quest in Guise will Be guise Her bosom leaped […]...
They rise from along history Yet much more so from her story As tectonic plates ready to serve up Unseen Earthquakes From a thousand generations reserved in silence Now a brand knew Whirled of daughters A raze of sisters A planet of mothers Assault of the earth Kind Of guy Proffering A little cue and Eh All up in her grill Did she Ever have a preyer And sow unwilling to take it like a man As scorn his money shot That unequivocal denial In gendering truth Giving phallus testimony As lord of the manner What gender buy ass? All the wile Repeating his know bull Saying He said, she said Firmly regarding women No one can ever no As patently reckon sow Never the less The young cry out Listen, those who have years And the owed cry out Of chorus we believe Agin and agin How becoming Suspect to boot Those inconceivable wholly catholic believers Accused of mass hallucination Wile evangelicals ax for forgiveness Can we hear an “awe men” Convicted of repentance Fore “Whatever” Might Or might knot Curred Even “so” Prone to think not Either weigh Scores are cutely a ware Of the deference between men and women And their coming forwardness Women taken longer for what sow ever reason And presumptuous minute men Pressing for Deliverance™ The move he perfected in reel life Yet she persists In efface of such a lie As a nation crime seen Takes it tolled In that kill her attraction Boys will be boys As if only, desperately only Girls will be boy’s At his will And over her dead body Yet ever rising agin Women take the stand With a flood of testimony Wee will sea Who rights history As righteous her story You can bet your posterity This is the time Where few will scarcely believe Such daze A nation myth taken Bye men of owed Having all ready pain Billed a thousand stories tall More than merely high Will occupy that feted place Having long a go Razed hell And now we are where Everyone is free To converse with angels Holy on the level
This poem is my latest ode to the Me Too movement and a living prayer in contrast to awe of the phallus preyers offered up these daze. I find inspiration in the Me Too movement to combat the pitiful and hurtful lack of trust and faith in women testifying to their own experiences, particularly about sexual assault. While the very process of the Supreme Court nomination of Bart O’Kavanaugh, aka Brett Kavanaugh, is a profound driver and marker of the progress of the Me Too movement, if Bart O. is confirmed as a Supreme Court justice, he will be a clear and present danger to all women facing sexual harassment and sexual assault. As documented by the National Women’s Law Center:
Kavanaugh’s Record Signals Danger for Survivors of Sexual Harassment
During his time as a judge, Kavanaugh has routinely ruled against working people, going out of his way to make decisions that deny people meaningful legal protection from sexual harassment and other forms of discrimination. His approach would harm those challenging workplace harassment and suggests a general hostility to discrimination claims, which could mean he would also make it harder to challenge harassment at school, from health care providers, and elsewhere.
Sexual harassment is not about sex, it is about power and control. Undocumented immigrant workers are especially vulnerable to sexual harassment and abuse, because they lack power in the workplace and elsewhere. Luckily, the Supreme Court has made clear that federal labor and employment law protects employees regardless of their immigration status, including their right to be free from harassment. Kavanaugh could change this. In Agri Processor Co. v. N.L.R.B., Kavanaugh dissented from a decision holding that an employer must bargain with employees who sought to form a union. Kavanaugh disagreed because many of the workers were undocumented immigrants. In the face of clear Supreme Court precedent to the contrary, Kavanaugh claimed that undocumented workers were not “employees” protected by the National Labor Relations Act, solely because of their immigration status. His analysis suggests that he would also hold undocumented workers are not “employees” protected from harassment and other forms of discrimination under federal law. This would give employers a blank check to sexually exploit undocumented immigrants and otherwise engage in the most despicable kinds of discrimination.
The #MeToo movement has shone a light on broken systems that prioritize protecting employers over helping those who experience harassment. One such system operates in Congress. Staffers experiencing sexual harassment at the hands of members of Congress or coworkers must endure three months’ worth of counseling before they can even file a formal complaint, for example. Kavanaugh, in Howard v. Office of Chief Admin. Officer of U.S. House of Representatives, would have further weakened the system protecting Congressional staffers from harassment and other forms of discrimination. The case involved a Black woman who worked for a Congressional office and alleged she was discriminated and retaliated against because of her race and paid $22,000 less than her white male counterparts doing the same job. Kavanaugh’s dissent argued she should be completely denied the right to bring her discrimination case in court, because judges should not inquire into most employment decisions made by Congress. Congressional employees, like other employees, should be able to go to court to enforce their legal rights and not be relegated into internal systems designed to protect their employers.
Federal law prohibits workplace sexual harassment. But in Miller v. Clinton, Kavanaugh wrote a dissent that would have denied a group of employees working overseas for the State Department any legal protections against workplace harassment and other forms of discrimination. His dissent also argued that those protected by civil rights laws are less desirable employees —a troubling worldview.
As the #MeToo movement has made clear, women are still too often disbelieved when they speak up about sexual harassment and assault. Unfortunately, Kavanaugh’s kneejerk reaction is to believe employers over individuals alleging discrimination. For example, in Jackson v. Gonzales, Kavanaugh wrote an opinion dismissing a Black employee’s claim that he was denied a promotion because of his race. The employer argued that the white employee who was promoted instead was more qualified even though her qualifications didn’t match up with the requirements in the job description. Kavanaugh ruled for the employer rather than letting a jury decide whether the employer’s explanation was believable.
Many individuals who experience harassment are afraid to come forward because they believe doing so will make it difficult or impossible to find another job. Kavanaugh has shown no concern for these real-world consequences of challenging discrimination. In America v. Mills, an employee accused his former employer of race discrimination, and the former employer agreed to pay the employee thousands of dollars to settle the claims. The settlement agreement also said that if prospective employers contacted the former employer about him, the only response would be a neutral reference. Instead of abiding by this agreement, the former employer gave a reference that included statements such as “he may not be the guy to take it to the next level…” and “I don’t think he got along with everybody…”; he had significant difficulty finding a new job. Kavanaugh held the former employer was not liable for violating the settlement agreement because this was close enough to a neutral reference. In the real world, of course, comments like this can torpedo a job opportunity. As the dissenting judge (a Bush appointee) noted, Kavanaugh’s analysis renders meaningless the part of the settlement agreement that was meant to ensure the individual’s future job prospects were not harmed as a result of challenging discrimination.
POEM: Innocence — An Owed In A Sense Her innocence Was immune to their dis ease As be wilder And a tempt However tempered Only to be Dis missed As just A guile His innocence Deified awe bravery In the face Of accusations summoned As subdude As never a cur to them Posing the quest in Guise will Be guise Her bosom leaped […]...
POEM: Breath of Fresh Heir Each mourning Brings that which is light Though wanting to rest As the whirled spins under my feet I am Still Razed Too my feat Standing on Perhaps a singular word Mysteriously helled Together In God-ordained gravity Until that thirst Breath of fresh heir As awe is knew This poem is about coming out of […]...
Holed for service A fool 40 minutes Before it curse to me Awe this while Writing a verse And now Awe is write with the whirled And still Feeling somewhat loopy With Muzak As the soundtrack of my life A borrowed cell To get my net back As technically I have no phone Without it Beating this conundrum again Buy perpetually wading Virtually forever A least weigh Passed an hour As much after Out to lunch Liable too due the same In need of stomaching something else …and halve an our later I’m done With out to lunch Buckeye CableSystem you suck The poetry write out of me
I wrote this poem while on hold with Buckeye CableSystem after my internet went out. Unfortunately, my phone runs off of the internet, so I can’t use my phone to call service. I have a landline, no cell phone. I borrowed my neighbor’s cell phone. After 90+ minutes on hold, I decided to hang up and dial again. Fortunately, they answered this time, after about 15 minutes. They had the internet up and running after a few hours. Unfortunately, my phone still doesn’t work, 13 days later, as my telephone provider, Pioneer Telephone, concluded after a week that whatever change Buckeye CableSystem made to the network was blocking the phone service. Perhaps typically, the phone technical service folks didn’t bother to tell me what they had concluded; I just got an e-mail that the ticket was closed. I sent an e-mail copied to both service providers asking them to get together and work this out. I haven’t heard anything yet. Perhaps they tried to call me!! I have been pondering stepping up my media sabbaticals. As I will soon enter week three without phone service, I suppose that I should be careful what I pray for.
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POEM: Breath of Fresh Heir Each mourning Brings that which is light Though wanting to rest As the whirled spins under my feet I am Still Razed Too my feat Standing on Perhaps a singular word Mysteriously helled Together In God-ordained gravity Until that thirst Breath of fresh heir As awe is knew This poem is about coming out of […]...
POEM: Innocence — An Owed In A Sense Her innocence Was immune to their dis ease As be wilder And a tempt However tempered Only to be Dis missed As just A guile His innocence Deified awe bravery In the face Of accusations summoned As subdude As never a cur to them Posing the quest in Guise will Be guise Her bosom leaped […]...
In the dark Weight fore it There it is That singular smile Making light Of everything Taking a twinkle Over Awe the whirled As never Settling for number one Even as wading for it On and on As inevitable As unstoppable Groan Only doing what comes naturally Going That second smile On that throne Laughing In efface of death
This poem is autobiographical, reflecting on my persistent inability to be serious while simultaneously and chronically dealing with serious issues. While my joking may be self-deprecatory, I specialize in deflating and parodying the powerful, dangerously powerful, if that’s not redundant. For me, the lightness that characterizes the best of life comes face to face with the all-to-often brutality and injustice that intersects, often vivisects, our lives. This laughing in efface of death is my most treasured place to be, in the role of jester, for which I am willing to die, that is, die laughing.
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POEM: Breath of Fresh Heir Each mourning Brings that which is light Though wanting to rest As the whirled spins under my feet I am Still Razed Too my feat Standing on Perhaps a singular word Mysteriously helled Together In God-ordained gravity Until that thirst Breath of fresh heir As awe is knew This poem is about coming out of […]...
POEM: Innocence — An Owed In A Sense Her innocence Was immune to their dis ease As be wilder And a tempt However tempered Only to be Dis missed As just A guile His innocence Deified awe bravery In the face Of accusations summoned As subdude As never a cur to them Posing the quest in Guise will Be guise Her bosom leaped […]...
I woke up Knot a moment too soon My values dying on the vine Just realizing In efface of Every dollar Unspent Awe the less I had to urn And in that mean time Aaah, lined my values Every little thing on the table Like the crack of daze break In hail Of every thing of late That interminable rush Expressly beyond reach Eclipsing will To simply be
This poem is an ode to less is more, aligning life to our deepest values, and slowing down in helping us get there. Speed kills, substituting urgency for importance. We rush to accomplish never present values, getting nowhere but in record time. Rushing to dreamed futures we outrun life’s manifold presents, that which is fixed in unbroken attention to timeless values and awake to now.
This day, may we each experience a deep presence to that which is awe ready present.
Or…in countering every pretense dropping, cut through the stuff that makes life grow.
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POEM: Innocence — An Owed In A Sense Her innocence Was immune to their dis ease As be wilder And a tempt However tempered Only to be Dis missed As just A guile His innocence Deified awe bravery In the face Of accusations summoned As subdude As never a cur to them Posing the quest in Guise will Be guise Her bosom leaped […]...
POEM: Breath of Fresh Heir Each mourning Brings that which is light Though wanting to rest As the whirled spins under my feet I am Still Razed Too my feat Standing on Perhaps a singular word Mysteriously helled Together In God-ordained gravity Until that thirst Breath of fresh heir As awe is knew This poem is about coming out of […]...
It was a dark and stormy night The starry heavens Replaced by blinding light Striking as lightning Startling awe But the bravest From places unseen With undeniable power Sow ready to rumble Reigning like a queen Poet, poet her, poetess Oh my God Correction! On my goddess Her super natural wind Clears deadwood from mighty oaks And what remains Still Stands Of gentle reads On the edge Of the river of life And in her wake Sleepy souls And well wrested A like Find themselves In what might Be called Daylight
I wrote this poem a while back in homage to Toledo poetess, Stormi, aka Paula Blocker, who graciously hosts a poetry reading every Friday night at The Trunk, 3353 Franklin.
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POEM: Innocence — An Owed In A Sense Her innocence Was immune to their dis ease As be wilder And a tempt However tempered Only to be Dis missed As just A guile His innocence Deified awe bravery In the face Of accusations summoned As subdude As never a cur to them Posing the quest in Guise will Be guise Her bosom leaped […]...
POEM: Breath of Fresh Heir Each mourning Brings that which is light Though wanting to rest As the whirled spins under my feet I am Still Razed Too my feat Standing on Perhaps a singular word Mysteriously helled Together In God-ordained gravity Until that thirst Breath of fresh heir As awe is knew This poem is about coming out of […]...
Waiving his red pen He made his mute point That spoken word is knot poetry Like meting Meter and anti-meter And the invariable deconstruction of awe As if Employing free Versus The hire mind For awe That its worth Save in alliteral weigh Abut Alas Bringing too bare Undisciplined obscenities uddering As opposed to the ladder As any won May eye Make this suggestive Perhaps you’s An unpronounceable cymbal farmerly no’in as prints Pulling weeds Of biblical pro portion Fore whatever It maybe worth There is know space Sandwiched Between poetry and knot poetry Between amateurs and prose Knot that which isn’t Nor which is The wurst I ever metaphor Whatever Call me I am An outspoken unspoken word artist Unspellbound in my crappy weighs And should upon In the coming daze Sow called poets anon meet As shepherds to sheep affix Due the write thing Feel free To shut the flock up
This poem was inspired by a blog article that a friend shared, entitled, “Spoken Word Is Not Poetry.” My immediate response was simple: “I find it helpful to see everything as poetry.” Of course, this is the gloriously useless mode of perception I aspire to use awe the time. However, this poem represents a more detailed critique of the assertion that spoken word is not poetry. The author of this article pined that many readers at open mics are not trained poets and typically use free verse or prose poetry. I must confess: I am an untrained poet, except by my tutelage under various muses. Further, the often quick use of vulgarities offended the author’s parently higher sensibilities. I strongly suspect that the work of any poet or poets is never complete as truth in word, as opposed to doing the deed in life, because life is F’ing ineffable. Claiming that spoken word is performance art, which it is, seemed to be a means to taint spoken word artists as something other than poets. I certainly don’t mind being seen as more than a poet! I wonder if the author would consider a novelist not a novelist if they read their work aloud — that would be a novel idea! I related to the author’s point that an important part of poetry is the relationship of the reader to the written word without being nailed down by a verbal representation (or layering upon it performance art). Most of my poems are best read silently, to allow for the multiple interpretations and meanings to brew within the reader; this process is at the heart of my poetry. I find it difficult to read many of my poems out loud because I must pick one way to read the poem which inevitably shortchanges the beauty of dancing multiple meanings. I must admit that when it comes to my poetry I am conveniently an anarchist, formally rejecting socially constructed boundaries of form. I do not doubt that the many fine forms of poetry developed over centuries are worthy of attention. Nonetheless, I consider deflating pretensions as fodder for my poetic vocations. If this itself seems pretentious, please feel free to take a meta view of my sow-called poems as self-parody. At the end of my daze, I want parity for awe.
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POEM: Breath of Fresh Heir Each mourning Brings that which is light Though wanting to rest As the whirled spins under my feet I am Still Razed Too my feat Standing on Perhaps a singular word Mysteriously helled Together In God-ordained gravity Until that thirst Breath of fresh heir As awe is knew This poem is about coming out of […]...
POEM: Innocence — An Owed In A Sense Her innocence Was immune to their dis ease As be wilder And a tempt However tempered Only to be Dis missed As just A guile His innocence Deified awe bravery In the face Of accusations summoned As subdude As never a cur to them Posing the quest in Guise will Be guise Her bosom leaped […]...
Logos used Too mean Know ledge Like that age owed ad vice Would you jump off a bridge If every won ails did As in sayin’ Bye your good will As money oozes from the non-prophet, health care (sic) system The sores of philandering philanthropy Well, come to PR medica An unholy owned subsidiary Of Tourette’s Industries You will swear Buy them Weather you want to or not Their marketing deportment is As good as goaled As black as poets inc Greasing their wills Stuck with irresistible pitch As verbally contracted Not worth the pay per Printed upon Yet this awe Will in deed Make it passable to live As resistance is feudal And being Penned Is what poets due Indubitably Sow branded As live stock For tolled Too get a rise The Tao jones Working in our flavor Over and over and over Un-till bank rolled In a dark ally Buy and buy Hour justifiable salivation Attending too in trap meant anon Agin and agin and agin Fore the yoke is on-us Awe the more Fore the fire brand Not with standing In a flesh of genius Is incensed As won red scent Becomes too Until udderly crying out In an unherd-of steer I love the smell Of nay palm In the mourning High noon And too fly by night Sullen this, sullen that Soully worried How irate In some won ails size Butt, its my skin in the game Lonely hoping Knot to be found Within and without My pants around my knees As its only My panties in a bunch Over Awe that madders Poetic license And corporate patronage Some body Has to Pay the piper To keep your roost ere plumbed As upright as it comes Why cant you Say “uncle” You know Like that rich uncle Who wants you To sit on his lap And tell you Bed time Stories That will mark you for life Butt kept mysteriously in a family weigh As long As in your genes As in c’est la vie Or sow, I’ve herd As if We are posed to be prod Of being cattle Scarred I’ll go All Gandhi on you as BE the beef Awe the wile beating a different conundrum Refraining that whole eat me thing The mark of the best (sic) Or rather sic sic sic’s Sow fresh and hoary unholy revelations Indulging vain wishes for dead presidents And CEOs Men of letters posterior to autograft Ass-ever-rate In playing defense At my offense With such propriety, proprietary and property For my own good, posedly Their mirror deflection But, but, but, but, but Except two a t And so I’m bare assed And without They’re money You’re nothing butt A bum And the rush Too be just THAT
I am not a big fan of branding, whether it is of livestock or in corporate public relations. I was inspired to write this poem because at a regular monthly poetry reading they secured a small amount of funding to pay invited featured poets. The source of funding included local community foundations plus the nearly ubiquitous ProMedica, the largest health system within the Toledo region. I have come to call Promedica, “PR Medica,” because of its often over-sized logo and branding in Toledo, aka ProMedica-ville, is nearly omnipresent in venues big and small. I found its intrusion into the local poetry scene offensive, particularly because I am an iconoclastic, anti-commercial poet who specializes in addressing social justice issues. This was a little too close to home for me. I announced before my open mic reading that I did not want to be considered as an invited poet. I suggested that to de-commercialize this reading, sending back the portion payed for by ProMedica, along with a strongly worded letter (might I suggest F and U), would be in order.
This is not the first time that I have unleashed my poetic visions against ProMedica. The first time I devoted a poem to ProMedica was when they sponsored a state-wide poetry contest on the topic of anti-hunger with an honorarium to the winning poet that would befit and maintain the status of starving artist. My unsubmitting, unremitting poem: Speaking With Spoken Sword: Owed To Hungering Fore Anew ProMedica.
ProMedica, if you want to combat hunger, pay all of your employees a living wage. ProMedica, if you want to fulfill your mission and redeem your non-prophet status, devote 0.01% of your revenue toward advocating for universal health care, everybody in, nobody out. Until then, you can bye this poet all you want.
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POEM: Innocence — An Owed In A Sense Her innocence Was immune to their dis ease As be wilder And a tempt However tempered Only to be Dis missed As just A guile His innocence Deified awe bravery In the face Of accusations summoned As subdude As never a cur to them Posing the quest in Guise will Be guise Her bosom leaped […]...
POEM: Breath of Fresh Heir Each mourning Brings that which is light Though wanting to rest As the whirled spins under my feet I am Still Razed Too my feat Standing on Perhaps a singular word Mysteriously helled Together In God-ordained gravity Until that thirst Breath of fresh heir As awe is knew This poem is about coming out of […]...
Once agin His eyes went Threw me Populating lonely A whirled Of perpetrators and victims Bad asses and good ass Of which I was won Haunted by wonder In what kind Of world Would we halve Been friends Now that is A world worth Fighting for
In a world flush with partisan rancoring and polarized perspectives, it is easy to pay know tension to each other’s humanity, often valuing each other less than common ground. In a world wear the lyin’ between winners and losers is sharply drawn, like an unbrakable sored, we risk a fate worse than deaf. When we are effaced with the phallus choice forced upon us between perpetrators and victims, there peers no amor culpable of shielding us in what is right or left, split in two, halves and have nots. The flush harbor in their stately effluence of fauxs. Oar their wins carry them aweigh, atop endless serfs and bounteous fleeting vassals.
Can one side fit awe?Can we engender enough solidarity and courage to make peace? What does fighting for won an other’s humanity look like? Who knows, perhaps the genuine struggle to answer such questions in our living and dying may very well be what makes this a world worth fighting for.
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POEM: Innocence — An Owed In A Sense Her innocence Was immune to their dis ease As be wilder And a tempt However tempered Only to be Dis missed As just A guile His innocence Deified awe bravery In the face Of accusations summoned As subdude As never a cur to them Posing the quest in Guise will Be guise Her bosom leaped […]...
POEM: Breath of Fresh Heir Each mourning Brings that which is light Though wanting to rest As the whirled spins under my feet I am Still Razed Too my feat Standing on Perhaps a singular word Mysteriously helled Together In God-ordained gravity Until that thirst Breath of fresh heir As awe is knew This poem is about coming out of […]...
Life As present Did not add up As if A zero Sum game The passed getting bigger The future getting smaller That good buy That eminent lessen As holy for gone As refuse As waive that fortune Having only Too come to wrest With that cursory savor The eternal Now
Here is yet another poem on the theme of the eternal now. Life can seem to pass by so quickly with so many distractions, perhaps wondering where it all goes. Know madder how attached we are to things, they seem to pass. The present, arisen from the past and cascading into the future, is awe we have. And we find ourselves, moved by weigh of this exquisite mystery, in the mist of where the passed and the future are knot won or the other. Long the weigh, most of us look for a savor of some sort, weather short and sweet or lingering and rarefied. Not with standing, we are prone to cling on, fighting increasingly alien forces, light years beyond any measure of good taste. Our salivation dries up before our face, caught in a scrunch, as whither every fecund moment reseeds in a parent mummification. And in spite of everything, the Tao jones arises again and agin…
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POEM: Innocence — An Owed In A Sense Her innocence Was immune to their dis ease As be wilder And a tempt However tempered Only to be Dis missed As just A guile His innocence Deified awe bravery In the face Of accusations summoned As subdude As never a cur to them Posing the quest in Guise will Be guise Her bosom leaped […]...
POEM: Breath of Fresh Heir Each mourning Brings that which is light Though wanting to rest As the whirled spins under my feet I am Still Razed Too my feat Standing on Perhaps a singular word Mysteriously helled Together In God-ordained gravity Until that thirst Breath of fresh heir As awe is knew This poem is about coming out of […]...
He was invited too serve As devil’s advocate But he prudently recognized That the job was utterly filled Declining the precipitous prize And elevated gratuitousness
At one point or another, we are each tempted to take up, the downside of an argument. The temptation to play devil’s advocate is yielded to with such regularity that more often than not such encumbrances serve only to discourage rather than uplift. Reflexive skepticism often bludgeons another’s confidence. Incessant dissection and paralysis of analysis can stall horse sense. The evil genius of devil’s advocacy is in the seemingly safe purview of inaction. Sins of omission are much easier to defend than sins of commission. Endlessly attending multifarious schools of thought offers erudite inaction at a faction of the cost Nonetheless, in a world already fucked up, practicing safer sects doesn’t go far enough. Inaction favors the status quo. In action favors change. Fortunes favor conservatism. Fortune favors the bold. The Devil needs advocates like we need a hole in ahead — don’t fall into that claptrap! We learn more from what we due than awe the rationalizing in the whirled. I’ll see you in the real world and raze you 100 devil’s advocates.
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POEM: Innocence — An Owed In A Sense Her innocence Was immune to their dis ease As be wilder And a tempt However tempered Only to be Dis missed As just A guile His innocence Deified awe bravery In the face Of accusations summoned As subdude As never a cur to them Posing the quest in Guise will Be guise Her bosom leaped […]...
POEM: Breath of Fresh Heir Each mourning Brings that which is light Though wanting to rest As the whirled spins under my feet I am Still Razed Too my feat Standing on Perhaps a singular word Mysteriously helled Together In God-ordained gravity Until that thirst Breath of fresh heir As awe is knew This poem is about coming out of […]...
It was his thing Fighting exclusively Battles he could win His crowning I deal Never finding himself On-the-cide of losers Whirled why’d Naught ails But win Filling his sales Whatever He could bye A captain of destiny In habiting the same owed ship Where awe is lost Save hope For another class
This poem is about doing most anything to win, and where pragmatism provides cover for sociopathy. What one will not do, that sacred “NO”, defines the boundaries and character of one’s ethical system and ultimate values. Without “no,” there is only sociopathy, boundless amorality. This is synonymous with “winning is everything.” The ability to lose, suffering loss, making sacrifices for a greater good, is at the heart of any mature system of values. This is not saying that suffering is intrinsically good, but some suffering is a necessary part of any process which seeks to trade up to greater goods. Our capitalistic culture provides easy cover for amorality, a mysterious “invisible hand” that will turn our selfishness, shortsightedness, and greed into durable goods. This makes nonsense of literally any system of ethics and human values. Capitalism is a meat-grinder of all that is human and humane.
In our contemporary context, Donald Trump is the consummate example of “winning is everything,” willing to trample anything and anyone to satisfy his rapacious appetite and infantile desires. His staggering indifference to coherency is perhaps the best testament to his sociopathy and megalomania. As his collection of infantile desires churn about from crying to be fed by others, being lulled by the prospect of absolute security, and to poop and have others clean it up, momentary contradictions are twittered away. During his campaign, Donald Trump illustrated well the height of his foolishness by claiming that he would regulate himself when he was president, even though he considered it his sociopathic duty to behave with no self-regulation in his shady business dealings, his defining “success.” The fact that so many Americans ate up this pablum attests to the worshipful status of the mythical “invisible hand” at the center of capitalism that will magically fix our bad behavior while encouraging bad behavior (sic).
Though it is any easy target to point out Donald Trump’s extraordinary stockpile of character defects, “winning is everything” is essentially a corollary of electoral politics. Losers don’t govern. The threat of apparent helplessness induced by electoral defeat is enough for most politically active human beings to habitually subjugate their highest ideals and dreams. Ideals and dreams are easy prey in the capitalistic meat-grinder of democracy for sale and ensuing plutocracy/oligarchy/kleptocracy. The nonnegotiable principals of “losers” are better served outside electoral politics where this different class of human (“losers”) can demonstrate the true winds of change needed for equality and justice for all. Losers, in terms of electoral politics, are simply those whose basic needs and human rights are not met by the governance of the current rulers in power. There are a lot of losers! When the many “losers” unite in solidarity against the fewer privileged elites, the electoral “winners,” justice is expanded. You may correctly note that in this equation the truest source and force for justice for all resides with the “losers.” When people with “skin in the game,” whether from involuntary disenfranchisement or in voluntary solidarity, confront those with soothing privilege, truth and justice favor the side off the oppressed. May all of the “losers” of the world unite!
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POEM: Innocence — An Owed In A Sense Her innocence Was immune to their dis ease As be wilder And a tempt However tempered Only to be Dis missed As just A guile His innocence Deified awe bravery In the face Of accusations summoned As subdude As never a cur to them Posing the quest in Guise will Be guise Her bosom leaped […]...
POEM: Breath of Fresh Heir Each mourning Brings that which is light Though wanting to rest As the whirled spins under my feet I am Still Razed Too my feat Standing on Perhaps a singular word Mysteriously helled Together In God-ordained gravity Until that thirst Breath of fresh heir As awe is knew This poem is about coming out of […]...
O pose The establishment Of his style Outside is in Down with up As drive in reveres “I love sow and sow more than anyone” And awe That is Con men Selling Brooklyn bridges To no where That is good The big apple buying the farm As if Building no hows With less than for walls One card to trump them all A big hand In no need To play with a full deck Holding his own Against women and labor And everything in between Winner loose Screw U
As Donald Trump moves from his many business scams such as Trump University to his latest and biggest scam, running the U.S. government into fiscal and moral bankruptcy, he will take the American people to school concerning authoritarianism and oligarchy with massive xenophobia. Trump’s vacuous grandiosity may fool a few desperate for change, but his histrionic casino regime will produce many losers and few winners — a rich man here, a fascist there. His parochial nationalism, riddled with partisan policies and incoherent rants, will chop this nation into ever smaller pieces. The one hope to overcome such sectarianism is a unified opposition resisting in solidarity with one another, having each other’s back. A love of the planet and the rest of humanity wouldn’t hurt either! A longshot would be that running American empire into the ground might be the most practicable route to a better world. Trump loves creating chaos, betting that power and privilege can profit off crisis and uncertainty. While this approach may seem new, and perhaps ripe for change, in contrast to the stultifying certainty and fixation on calculable security of traditional elites, it is simply the other favorite tool of power and privilege, though typically reserved for widespread use in imperial rule outside the U.S. Bringing chaos and crisis home as the preferred governing mode is dangerous to civil society and democracy. The answer to such a challenge wrests in the creativity and unflagging unity of those subject to such an assault. Creativity trumps chaos. Solidarity trumps divide and conquer strategies. May we revel in creative resistance and overwhelming solidarity!
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POEM: Innocence — An Owed In A Sense Her innocence Was immune to their dis ease As be wilder And a tempt However tempered Only to be Dis missed As just A guile His innocence Deified awe bravery In the face Of accusations summoned As subdude As never a cur to them Posing the quest in Guise will Be guise Her bosom leaped […]...
POEM: Breath of Fresh Heir Each mourning Brings that which is light Though wanting to rest As the whirled spins under my feet I am Still Razed Too my feat Standing on Perhaps a singular word Mysteriously helled Together In God-ordained gravity Until that thirst Breath of fresh heir As awe is knew This poem is about coming out of […]...
He offered Me All the secrets of the world And being more Or less ambitious I went for a few secrets Not of this world
This poem is a tip of the hat to a famous Thomas Aquinas quote: “The slenderest knowledge that may be obtained of the highest things is more desirable than the most certain knowledge of lesser things.” Certainly, knowing how things work in the world of certainty — or, at least, high probability — is very useful in navigating this world. No cents getting burned in a wring of fire. Still, the world of possibility, of may be, is where the heights of humanity are scaled. There is a certain infinity in pi that boggles the mind. There is a particular immeasurably to the census of a delectable pie. There is abounding freedom in a life taunted by a pie ever-growing in size. To gain the world and lose your soul is perhaps the gravest deal ever afforded our priceless lives. Awe that I am saying, just, know deal.
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POEM: Breath of Fresh Heir Each mourning Brings that which is light Though wanting to rest As the whirled spins under my feet I am Still Razed Too my feat Standing on Perhaps a singular word Mysteriously helled Together In God-ordained gravity Until that thirst Breath of fresh heir As awe is knew This poem is about coming out of […]...
POEM: Innocence — An Owed In A Sense Her innocence Was immune to their dis ease As be wilder And a tempt However tempered Only to be Dis missed As just A guile His innocence Deified awe bravery In the face Of accusations summoned As subdude As never a cur to them Posing the quest in Guise will Be guise Her bosom leaped […]...
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