Feminist POEM: Me Too — Now A Brand Knew Whirled Of Daughters

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. Women Brought All Politicians Into The World, We Can Take Them Out POLITICAL BUTTONI 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

  • Stop Sexism - STOP Sign POLITICAL BUTTONDuring 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.
  • SEXISM is a Social Disease POLITICAL BUTTONSexual 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.

Feel free to view my feminist and women’s rights designs:

Feminism Is The Radical Notion That Women Are People POLITICAL BUTTONGlobalize THIS - WOMEN'S RIGHTS [earth graphic] POLITICAL BUTTON

POLITICAL POEM: Trump Pulls Out As Partners Dumb Found

Trump Pulls Out As Partners Dumb Found

Sow culpable
Too due nothing
President Trump pulls out
What little hand
He had in Mother Earth’s
Safe guarding
His oily and gassy mates
Coal for everyone!
It’s like Christmas!!
And stocks sore
In the after math
Of this unbelievable savior
As he
Really nailed this won
Portending every faux
In ascension into heavin’
His big short
His wee altitude toward clime
Single digit approval
Or not
As what gives
Chump change
In loo of climate change

At Least The War on the Environment is Going Well POLITICAL BUTTONThis poem is in response to President (sic) Donald Trump’s pulling out of the Paris climate change accord.  For badder or worse, this clear signal of climate insanity may provide the best united front yet for international resistance to American hegemony; plus, American abdication of global leadership offers opportunities to forge more sane efforts at worldwide solidarity.

This article says it well, In praise of Trump pulling out of the Paris climate pact:

“To the dismay of our allies, the White House could any day announce the U.S. will withdraw from the Paris climate agreement. But as a patriot and climate activist, I’m not dismayed. I actually want to pull out.Do Not Worry About The Environment - It Will Go Away POLITICAL BUTTON

The value of the Paris Agreement is in its aspirational goal of limiting temperature increase to 1.5 degrees Celsius, not in its implementation mechanisms, which are voluntary, insufficient, and impossible to monitor. But that modest goal will be breached shortly, which makes the agreement a kind of fig leaf, offering political cover to those who would soft-pedal the runaway climate crisis a while longer.

The U.N. Conference of the Parties is certainly not the organization to constrain powerful, retrenched fossil fuel interests and other bad climate actors and rogue climate states. The Paris agreement affords oil, gas and coal companies a globally visible platform through which to peddle influence and appear engaged on climate change while lobbying for business as usual. That won’t save the climate.
At what point do we give up wishful, incremental thinking — that reason will prevail, the free market will adjust, the president’s daughter and son-in-law will dissuade him from the worst climaticide, the Democratic Party will do something, or prior policies which tinker on the margins like the Clean Power Plan won’t be totally obliterated?

I’d argue we’ve reached that point. If Trump withdraws from the Paris Agreement, at least we will have clarity instead of false hope.

Who wanted to keep the U.S. in the Paris agreement anyway? People around the world, a majority of Americans, environmentalists and other coastal elites — constituencies for which Trump has shown indifference and/or contempt. Staying in was also favored by Exxon Mobil, Chevron, BP, Peabody coal, eBay, HP, General Mills, Kellogg, Tesla and other multinationals the Trump administration would have preferred to keep happy. But let’s face it, they won’t be all that mad the U.S. is pulling out, and the political impact won’t be all that great.

Neither will the environmental impact. In fact, since the agreement lacks teeth, breaking it won’t have any effect on the climate in the short term. But in the longer term, the shock and rethinking it will cause in some circles just might precipitate political and cultural changes we need to stave off climate cataclysm.

Pulling out of Paris will also give the president a political boost. It gives Breitbart and Fox something to crow about and The New York Times, Washington Post and CNN something that’s not Russia-gate to fret over.

Earth First - We'll Rape the Other Planets Later - FUNNY POLITICAL BUTTONDon’t get me wrong. I’m not trying to justify or abet Trump and his supporters in climate denial, and I’m not thinking climate activists and the Trump administration will end up in some the kind of strange-bedfellows embrace. Personally, I loathe this administration and find the president’s actions mean, maleficent, and mendacious, though it’s nothing personal. On my very best days I can eke out a couple minutes of meta loving-kindness meditation for the president as a person, but it’s a struggle.

I welcome pulling out of the Paris agreement because it will disrupt our complacency and strengthen the most vigorous avenues of climate action left to us, which are through the courts and direct citizen action. It lends much more credence to the Our Children’s Trust legal argument that the federal government has utterly failed in its responsibility to consider the long-term impact of carbon emissions. It advances the arguments of the Community Environmental Legal Defense Fund in their federal lawsuit for the right to a livable climate. And it strengthens the case for climate activists attempting to raise the “necessity defense” as a justification for citizen climate action, as I and my fellow “valve turners” are doing as we face criminal charges for shutting off emergency valves on oil sands pipelines.

I Can't Afford To Be a Republican (neither can the planet!) POLITICAL BUTTONIt’s also true that withdrawal from Paris deprives mainstream environmental organizations and the foundations and funders that guide them of a key deliverable, and that could risk eroding support for them. Perhaps that’s not such a bad thing. Many of them have pursued an utterly bankrupt strategy of understating the climate problem, negotiating with the fossil fuel industry, and cherry-picking small victories to showcase organizational accomplishments at the expense of a functional movement strategy.

Pulling out of Paris takes false hopes off the table, and opens the way for building an effective climate movement. So as committed climate activist who knows we’re running out of time, I say, let’s get on with it.”

The false propriety of incremental change is being smashed.  Let’s join together as one planet, one humanity, to build a lasting consensus that Mother Earth deserves our love and undying respect.

POLITICAL POEM: Among Politicians For Sail

In the art of politics
We are the wind
Awe that madders
To those who sea
Among politicians for sail
Transcending them to helm
In their infernal riggings
And whatever weigh
As such politics
Blows
And how ever along winded
Wee will
Prevail
Sow go a head
Win
Be my gust

Q: What can transcend the riggings in the political system?  A: The strong winds of political movements derived from the consent (or resistance) of the people.  Perhaps the most reliable characteristic of politicians is their ability to do most anything to gain power or maintain power.  Politics is often referred to as the art of compromise.  Power Requires Consent POLITICAL BUTTONPolitics is as often at the heart of selling out.  Power requires consent, the consent of the people.  This is the foundation for nonviolent resistance and noncooperation with evils in society.  Fortunately, the malleable morality of politicians can be harnessed by the exercise of power directly by the people, without relying on simply moral appeals.  In the body politic, the moral state of the state is mediated by the people either exercising their values which manifest political realities and shape power, or by the people delegating moral behavior to politicians (sic) and/or relinquishing morality altogether.  The people define the political realities by which politicians must navigate.  The pragmatic malleability of politicians makes them far better suited to follow than lead, to reflect current political realities rather than challenge and change them.  The notion that power is fundamentally derived from political elites is mistaken and not what the founders of the constitution understood of governance as derived from the consent of the people.  Likewise, moral behavior is derived from each person as a moral agent, a responsibility that cannot be relinquished and a privilege that each human shares.

Be the Change You Want to See in the World -- PEACE QUOTE BUTTONAuthentic leadership, by being the change you want to see in the world, is often punished by the powers that be of the status quo, whose interest is in maintaining things the way they are, that is, to their own advantage over others.  Your resistance and its equal and opposite force applied by the powers that be is exactly the measure by which your values are valued.  Find out just what any people will quietly submit to and you've found out the exact measure of injustice which will be imposed on them. Frederick Douglass quote POLITICAL BUTTONMore simply put, your values are values exactly to the extent that you are willing to pay a price for them.  Many good things in life come cheap, either through the work of others or the grace of God.  The luck of the draw in possessing such good things that come to us without us personally paying the full cost is what is often called privilege.  Good things are, well, good.  But, when we haven’t paid the full cost, or worse yet, someone else is involuntarily paying the cost for you, such an imbalance in the balance sheet requires moral action to assure fair treatment of others.  It is exactly such imbalances in the balance sheets that fundamentally amoral ideologies such as capitalism cannot produce balance.  In fact, amoral ideologies such as capitalism act to leverage inequalities and unfairness into further inequalities and unfairness.  In short, it takes moral force, truth force, what Gandhi referred to as satyagraha, to set the world right.  Those experiencing the short end of inequalities and unfairness most fully experience the material conditions suited to such enlightenment.  Those experiencing the long end of inequalities and unfairness find that their the material conditions are rife with easy denial and low-cost rationalizations suited to maintaining their advantage, their advantage over others.  This is another way of describing the “preferential option for the poor” in liberation theology, recognizing that the dispossessed are naturally better positioned to exercise moral leadership since their personal interests and social justice interests are better aligned.  Surely, the poor have their own special set of temptations to choose the low road in morality.  However, the privileged are only required to give up privilege over others for justice’s sake, which is a nominal sacrifice compared to coping well or poorly inside chronic injustices.  This is particularly true since the powers that be exact a price disproportionately higher to the dispossessed than what would represent a fair price for their personal, individual justice.  In other words, the dispossessed must invest in social justice to experience personal justice.   If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor -- Desmond Tutu quote POLITICAL BUTTONThe privileged are free of such costs, and worse yet, are personally advantaged by injustice, a cruel incentive to unjust action, or more often than not, inaction.

Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere -- Martin Luther King, Jr. BUTTONAs can be seen through the lenses of power derived through the consent of the people and the material conditions conducive to acting morally in the face of social injustices, the hope for a more just and moral world is founded in actions of solidarity with and among the disenfranchised of the world.  Expecting the privileged to relinquish their privilege — or manage the poor justly (sic) — is a lame substitute for disenfranchised peoples acting in the interest of both themselves and all people.  May we act in solidarity with one another to overturn injustice anywhere.

Feel free to browse Top Pun’s designs about social justice and a huge choice of political action issues.

POEM: A Boner Fide Off Her

Things are heating up in America
As round the earth
Flatlanders are in a whirled
Of applausable deniability
As their scholar ship sales
Off any known atlas
Of shrugging turtles
And histrionic elephants
Lording over mice and men
In the name of
Republic and mulishness unleashing
Wretched blaming
Artless prey
And blame ideologies
In quakes of human faults
Indifferent in effect
To reason
Snatched
In a phallus logic
As in is capable
With mother earth getting hotter every day
Only asking for it
Her plea to cool it
Only be lying
A girl tempting
To think too hard
Effacing such a boner fide off her

This poem is about macho braggadocio and an abiding disrespect for nature and human kind.  Power Thinks Doing God's Service When Violating All God's Laws--PEACE QUOTE BUTTONWhen such hubris enters politics, both Mother Earth and the body politic get screwed.  Scientific illiteracy in general, and climate change denial specifically, are arenas where greedy ideologies are conveniently engorged on fact-free rations.  Patriarchy and hyper-masculinity give a big hand to victim blaming, outwardly their natural outgrowth.  Earth First - We'll Rape the Other Planets Later - FUNNY POLITICAL BUTTONSuch masturbatory ideologies lead to blindness of natural consequences.  That power is as power does masquerades as scientific acumen, as fore juggernaut of perverse cause-and-effect.  In such phallus logic, the invisible hand magnanimously despoils the hole fecund planet.  Meet market, free market, proving worth wile in every victim it volunteers.  Such virulent virility vivisects Mother Earth and her children.  And what remains, who could resist?

What Exactly Are Conservatives Conserving (Earth) POLITICAL BUTTONDo Not Worry About The Environment - It Will Go Away POLITICAL BUTTONHow About Securing This Homeland (Planet Earth) - POLITICAL BUTTON

Western Civilization Is A Loaded Gun Pointed At The Head Of This Planet -- Terrence McKenna quote POLITICAL BUTTONToday, humanity faces a stark choice: save the planet and ditch capitalism, or save capitalism and ditch the planet --Fawzi Ibrahim quote POLITICAL BUTTONGlobalize THIS - ENVIRONMENTAL RESPONSIBILITY [earth graphic] POLITICAL BUTTON

Feel free to browse more environmental and Mother Earth designs.

POEM: Enough Awe Ready

He saw
The future
In have
Like sum carnival game
Destined to win
As if
In sane
As blown two bits
Caught looking
Like a fun house mirror
Mirror on the wall
Axing who is the fairest
Of ummm awe
Busted by what is shard
With no won
As too haves
Make a hole
Unfull
Filled in
Presence intact
With twisted knows
And everybody stretched
Beyond recognition
Of what is awe
Ready today

This poem is an ode to my experience of life becoming increasingly surreal.  I am perpetually befuddled at how we humans can bypass the ever-present awe freely available in any God-given moment for the cheap, gaudy prizes hawked by the carnival barkers of our so-called civilization.  Money and possessions possess us.  Having trumps being.  Our fixations on imprisoning security, superficial celebrity and vain distractions, ego-catering status, and national power distort our worldviews like a fun-house mirror, a broken won at that.  Denial fuels us into believing that our common cents whirled is accurate, or perhaps inescapable, if not necessarily healthy.  Acceptance is not about pawning hope or cynically tolerating “necessary” evil; rather acceptance is simply seeing things as they are.  I strongly suspect, and hope, that my befuddlement emanates from the gap between seeing things as the really are versus the circus of awe-consuming American culture blowing through town and this flicker of human and planetary history.  May we all see things, and accept things, as they really are, making it most possible to fulfill our most deeply real dreams.

POEM: Nazi Murder Trials, 1963

Courting the truth
Their stories were tolled
Not simply for just us
But for awe of them
Beyond monumental
To re-member
A broken body politic

http://toppun.com/Political/A-Nation-of-Sheep-Soon-Beget-a-Government-of-Wolves-Edward-R-Murrow-Quote.gifThis poem was inspired by the 2015 German movie, Labyrinth of Lies, about a young and idealistic public prosecutor in post World War II Germany learning about Nazi war crimes and their endemic impunity.  As one reviewer summarizes:

“Powerful and haunting, Labyrinth of Lies turns over a rock and watches the vermin crawl out in a disturbing and rarely talked about footnote to German (and world) history. The rock is Germany’s massive effort to forget the past under National Socialism and move on. Real Eyes, Realize, Real Lies - POLITICAL BUTTONThe rats are the former Nazis who, after the war, found acceptance and protection in comfortable positions of importance in the German government at a time when the country was on its way to reconstruction and cultural renaissance. The movie centers on the handful of brave men and women who dedicated themselves to an uncompromising search for the truth in the investigation that led to the Auschwitz trials from 1963 to 1965 in which Germans prosecuted Germans at last. It’s one of the most important and revelatory films of the year.”

got fascism? POLITICAL BUTTONThe first line in this poem, Courting the truth, has multiple references and meanings.  The movie is a prosecutorial investigation leading to the 1963 trial of Nazi war criminals for murder (which doesn’t have a statute of limitations) which was the largest trial in German history and considered the pivotal event in Germany coming to terms with its haunting past of Hitler’s reign and the tsunami of obedience by the overwhelming proportion of German citizens.  “Courting” refers to the culminating courtroom drama which the story preludes.  “Courting” also refers to the courtship of the truth and of the love affair portrayed in the movie between the lead character, the lead prosecutor, and his wife-to-be.  The courtship of the truth, which reveals reams of human ugliness, stands in sharp contrast to the love affair.  Or does it?  The love affair is romantic, even magical, until in drunken despair the prosecutor confronts his wife with the reality of her own drunken father who fought with the Nazis in Poland: “Ask him why he drinks?”  She tells her husband to get out, for good.  The allusion is that she continues in denial about her father.  The full-circle carnage is complete as the drunken despair was triggered by the idealistic prosecutor’s daring to look at his own father’s war records, only to find out that he was a member of the Nazi Party.  Resistance Trumps Fascism [Royal Flush] POLITICAL BUTTONThe literal image of his father, a picture inscribed to him with the implied command, “Always do the right thing,” was now only an idol hypocrisy.  The merciless truth of endemic Nazi collaboration couldn’t be clearer.  Or could it?  Among other revelations, he learns that the activist journalistic pushing for the Auschwitz investigation was, in fact, a guard at Auschwitz, making a somewhat-late and partially-muddled attempt at amends for his own presumed war crimes.  Courting the truth offers unsatisfying justice as the original horrific injustices and decimation of humanity could never be fully restored.

The second line in the poem, Their stories were tolled, is the best answer offered to such overwhelming tragedy and criminality.  Simply to have some of the countless untold stories of uncounted victims was the only path to honor the murdered and begin the healing of a war-ravaged nation.  The damning awe of the truth cannot be successfully covered up by however neat or sterilizing monuments over which the dead are encrypted from the light of day.  The terrible truth must be tolled — exacting unpayable pries.  Good People Disobey Bad Laws POLITICAL BUTTONThe river of denial must give weigh to the river of blood teeming underneath “A broken body politic.”  That a broken body politic can re-member at all is the only redemption realizable.

May we never forget the lessens of war and its many patriotic and cowardly crimes against humanity.  May we have the necessary courage and bounding love for humanity to empower us to defeat the scourges of nationalism and that bastard of patriotism: fascism.

POEM: Slow Mo’ Bettor Blues

Is it awe
A gambol
Sometimes you git
Their faster
In slow motion
More rarefied
Then a tortoise and its hair
Relegated to children
Of God
Knowing nothing
In the phase of fabled
Head weigh
Breeding like
Rabbits
Countering undeniable cullings
Sow cruel
Hour nature spurning perpetuity
As if
Life is
Allegory mess
And too the victors
Come the spoileds
Certifiable
That the hole
Whirled
Plodding against them
Wading for ascendancy
As not see
Wee are just
Critters in the for us
Peering as equals
On the wrong aside
Of hasty formulas
And breakneck algorithms
As mirrorly xenophobic creeps
Seeing what
Formerly cannot be
Seeing
And hearing what
In the passed
Was beyond what was winced imagined
And in deed
Awe
The more
As silence speaks
Volumes
To those slow enough
To listen

This poem is an ode to the adage that sometimes you get there faster in slow motion.  It is a sad lot who careen through life hanging on to the notion that you succeed by getting there faster than the next guy — and yes, it’s usually a guy.  As Gandhi so aptly noted, “There is more to life than increasing its speed.”

Speed is close kin to efficiency, that typically impersonal and depersonalizing practice that produces alienation with grate efficiency.  Modern, capitalistic, consumer culture cons us into trading manufactured goods for the perennial goods understood and revered by most cultures through most of human history.  Xenophobic nationalism icons us into perpetual war.  You can’t buy authentic, healthy human relationships.  Alienation from our own human nature and one another arise from buying the better part of employees lives and buying off minions and masses to bolster won’s usurious interests.  Earning friendship and offering radical hospitality to all has little kin to urning enemies and sending radicals to the hospital.

Overrunning natural boundaries is almost the definition of modern civilization.  There are natural processes that can only be ignored at one’s own peril.  Things take time.  If we don’t take time, then things will take us.  Buy weigh of example, baking a loaf of bread or growing a seedling takes a certain amount of time and follows a distinct order.  Baking a loaf of bread by only letting it rise half the time or baking it at twice the temperature does not result in either a speedier or even satisfactory outcome.  The final state of a seedling is more related to the nature of the seed than even the earth in which it is planted.  A seed may die prematurely, but a tomato seed will never grow into a rose bush.  Western civilization seems in deep denial about a natural pace of human life or a prudent ordering of manufactured goods over perennial goods.  SLAVERY Is The Legal Fiction That A Person Is Property - CORPORATE PERSONHOOD Is The Legal Fiction That Property Is A Person POLITICAL BUTTONPerhaps the most illustrious example of this is our equating, or even favoring, corporate persons over actual human persons.  When things are of equal or greater importance than people then the sphere of human life will be locked into the equivalent of a flat earthers worldview, or worse yet, relegated to subterranean living, with social sanctions for humanity raising its beautiful head.

Deeply listening and keenly observing are hallmarks of both the material sciences and the spiritual sciences.  Such noble ventures, discovering truths about the natural world and human nature, take both time as well as respect for the guidance of the accumulated wisdom of the ages.  Silence itself is considered by many as the language of God, reality experienced directly and unmediated by the handicaps of human language.  Words will always fail to completely embody such experience.  Material sciences have the advantage of studying a sum-what less-elusive “dead” world of things and impersonal (objective) forces.  Spiritual sciences aren’t sow lucky, tempting to elucidate the nature of humans (subjective) and even more daring to mumble of God (Subjective, with a capital S), that most precarious of places, where awe may be said and knot holy done.

May you find a pace of life that gives you a supple foundation for participating fully in the perennial goods of humanity and the awesome world in which we live.

This poem’s title includes a reference to mo’ better, a slang term for making passionate love to the point of exhaustion with someone who wants you as badly as you want them.  Of course, the better is transformed to the pun bettor to allude to the precarious reality that passionate love for another person, a loving creation, or loving God, will entail risks that the risk managers will most certainly recommend that you manage.  Perhaps the only mortal sin in postmodern existence is to be out of control — as if we are in control of much anyway!  Are you willing to bet on the seductiveness and elusiveness of love, to live a life beyond others’ sensibility of control?

May you find loving passions that spill out uncontrollably over the whole world.  And as in any great lovemaking, may it be long and slow…

POEM: Know Vacancy — Owed To Co-Dependency

Are you so-so special
More than a little off
Renting that hallowed space
Inn one’s head
To fiend and faux like
For what
Mounts to ears
A-pathetic brood
Checking in weigh too often
Getting your pique of the litter
Wondering aimlessly
Sow sow whys
As trashing hows
The leaser of too evils
Getting lesson nothing
Getting squat-er
Yet billing another story
As stairing into space
The winnow of your soul
Reflecting that unending turn off
Flashing neon signs
Know vacancy

Most everyone who has loved someone has made a fool out of themselves before.  If you haven’t, you probably aren’t loving enough, putting your whole self out there.  Loving involves intimacy.  Intimacy involves risk of being hurt.  This is normal, that is, unavoidable, barring building huge walls to keep others out and not caring at all.  Of course, failing to love is assured by not trying to love.

Mind Your Own Business SPIRITUAL BUTTONCodependency develops in the coarse of normal adaptations to abnormal situations, resulting in self-defeating patterns of behavior.  While coping mechanisms may protect oneself fare thee well amidst dysfunction, coping mechanisms applied to more normal situations themselves become dysfunctional.  Fear and hyper-vigilance may trigger defensiveness and offensiveness in situations where it is maladaptive.  This actually repels more normal people in one’s life, interfering with opportunities to more healthily adapt to higher functioning relationships.  Also, the skills developed in codependency are like a neon light to addicts — dependents — signalling your ability to fit their dysfunction.  Strangely, unlike attracts unlike, and match to match ignites situations where the house burning down is transformed into a bizarre opportunity to share s’more with each other.  The fact that you can tolerate such chaos and abuse is the very measure of such depraved and deprived love.

This brutal dance of codependency often continues until one or more of the parties hits rock bottom, and digging the relationship finally peers as absurd.  Oftentimes, since the other person in the relationship is obviously crazy, both the dependent and codependent move onto similar relationships without facing their own craziness.  PRIDE - Please Remember I Do Everything SPIRITUAL BUTTONIf trying to control the uncontrollable, such as other people, is your motto, then you may well be the mayor of crazyville, with all of its perks and benefits.  There are many symptoms of such candidacy.  They include letting others live rent free in your head, nurturing resentments in the self-contradictory hope of taking poison and expecting others to be hurt, and being so lost in others’ business that you can’t take care of your own business.  The hallmark of codependency is not having boundaries where you need them and having walls of denial blocking your view of things as they really are.

Gracefully, there appears to be a sanity clause — just sane!  Mysteriously, many eventually brake free from such self-defeating patterns.  They come to appreciate the proposition of letting go — or being dragged!  Live and Let Live SPIRITUAL BUTTONTrying to control stuff that can’t be controlled creates a bloated illusion that the world will fall apart if you don’t hold it all together.  Living in this false hood is extremely dangerous, and great relief can be gained by relinquishing sow sow much on won’s too due list.  Maybe you aren’t the one holding it all together.  This is a world where you neither play God, nor are played by God.  This leaves you free to fulfill your unique role in the whirled, taking care of your own business and your response-ability, and allowing others to live their own lives, without lording over them, as in sibling rivalry.  Some call this being an adult.  Some call it being a child.

POEM: Flagging Defeat

He had enough
Privilege
To ignore
The increasingly grave mound
Of white lies
Worshiping some cruel over lode
Surveying all that was once
Theirs
A teetering tower of babble
Atop spinning
Helled up only buy its careening whirled
Mything the point
All together
Now
Clandestined
Putting on
Unthinking caps
And underhanded false hoods
As lynch
Pin
Heads for defeat
Know madder
How much strange fruit barren
When one states rights
As truth is strangers are friction
Aspersing crowds
For their own good
Libel too change things
Such hyper bully
Spreading tall tails
In their own rapaciousness
Selling specious whoppers
Sow roil fast fooled
Culumny-ating
In counter revolutions
And when hearing the music
Appropriating Supremes
To court continuing prophets
Of the status quo
Inebriated by fomenting hip hops
Staying the sway
Of flag in defeat
All white like
Its shadowy cross
And comforting gray
Relegated to daze of ode
Lying their
As soldiers do
In the by and by
As civil war
(or any wore for that madder)
Can only be one
Surrendering to
That which is
Equal to its humanity

PROTEST Is When I Say I Don't Like Something, RESISTANCE Is When I Put A Stop To ItThis poem is a tribute to recent events leading to the taking down of the confederate flag at several southern state capitols.  Special props go to Bree Newsome who unequivocally demonstrated direct democracy by taking down the confederate flag on the South Carolina statehouse grounds in the aftermath of the racist Charleston massacre.

Sad as it is to still be fighting the civil war 150 years after its official end, the tide is turning.  While a flag may only be symbolic, flags are powerful landmarks in American culture.  Around the world, the American flag represents a nationalism tainted by an imperialism exceeding that of the Roman Empire, waging perpetual war on people of color, non-Christians, and anyone else who resides in the way of national economic interest, such as living in an oil-rich region.  Domestically, the “rebel” flag of the confederacy has held its place for generations as a racist symbol from a failed treason in trying to form a slavery-filled nation-state.

RACISM - If One Of Your Proudest Achievements Is Being White, That Says A Lot About What You Have Done With Your LifeWhite privilege, and its sister, white denial, are alive and, well, dominate the American landscape.  Like water to fish, most whites most of the time don’t see it.  Institutional racism is the elephant in the room of America that few dare speak of openly and publicly.  Beside degrading the lives and humanity of African-Americans, their positive culture and creativity are regularly appropriated for the profit of mainstream — read “white” — America.  The confederate flag has been one of the most persistent and visible signs of continuing white dominance and supremacy.  To get confederate flags out of public places is mind-bogglingly and heart-breakingly overdue, and this process will hopefully mightily speed dialogue and awareness of the perniciousness of racism.

SLAVERY Is The Legal Fiction That A Person Is Property - CORPORATE PERSONHOOD Is The Legal Fiction That Property Is A PersonRacism is one of many forms of dominance that continue to plague humanity.  Today, corporate personhood is trumping the legal rights of actual persons.  The legal fiction of a person being property, known as slavery, may be formally over, but the legal fiction of property as a person, a corporate person with constitutional rights on par with actual persons, is running roughshod over America and the globe.  Corporate personhood is eroding, perhaps even already stolen, democracy as typically conceived in America.  Wage slavery and corporate rule are the weapons of choice these days to enslave the body politic.  Getting money out of politics may dry-dock the fishiest elements of political elites.  Our lives and the future of humanity may very well depend on it.  People will only fare better than money when we value people — all people — more than money.  May it be so…

 

POEM: Making a Fuel of My Self

In the cold night
That darkest time
When dawns forgotten
My heart burns
With fear and pain
My home aflame
To an unaltarable offering
And fiery furnish
Of wanton change
Of hammering out or deal
For scanty respite
From that
I hate
Combusting
Up the world
With care less balms
And succors for bid
Sow overdo
And with such gall
I light
All things tinder
Overlooking the infernal warming
Of making a fuel of my self
In whatever eye wood do
Only just
In the mean time
Slamming on
The day brakes
I find myself
In the mourning
Executing catharsis
I come to
Grasping for breath
Only fearing what thou wilt due
I under stand
My shudders unbolted
Udderly apprehended
As in canned essence
Set free
Revealing my son ship
Brethren to awe
And cistern of tears
Still, don’t pine for me
For what
I have got
My ash kicked
By whatever might
Remain
As I urn my weigh
And when moan comes
My hearth is rekindled
Out shining
That which can never be
Holy defeated
Burnishing everything I knead

This poem is about both hope and the striking temptation of violence.  Violence begets violence.  Hate begets hate.  Likewise, love can overcome hate and violence.  Hope is embodied in nonviolent resistance to violence and injustice.  If we succumb to merely returning violence for violence, then we reinforce the cycle we supposedly resist.  If we don’t recognize and accept that at the deepest level of reality my enemy and I are one, then discord will be borne again…and again.  Violence is very hardy because it so predictably riles our most base instincts, the basic structure of our bodies and rudimentary psychology; that is, for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.  Practicing the discipline of nonviolence is the way to break free from this self/other destructive chain of causal events.  Human will is transcendent, naturally rebellious, to this destructive lock-down of reactionary existence.  This inescapable rebellion against being trapped in seemingly perpetual violence is the birth of hope and the path of peace and justice for all.  An undefeatable aspect of human will always stands outside the seductive snare of merely reactionary behavior.  Choosing a higher path is possible.  As Gandhi so simply and boldly declared in word and deed, “Peace is possible.”  We can choose to dishonor this higher aspect of human existence by choosing to settle for reactionary participation in a seemingly inescapable chain of crap that nobody really wants but someone else “makes” me do, as if I am some soulless machine, voting in a rigged game.  This dishonors our true maker, mysterious and gracious.  Perpetrators, those who are most deeply embedded in the illusion that violence will give them the long end of the stick that is one humanity, erroneously believe that they possess some superior will in manipulating the machinations of the day to their advantage (at the expense of others).  Rather, their self-serving complicity with reactionary destructive violence is a denial of creative human will and hope for peace and justice for all.  To escape their own self-dehumanization they pompously attribute their apparent success in navigating the status quo of reactionary existence to a superior will, somehow free from others’ claims on them.  These so-called winners look to themselves apart, seeing themselves as self-made men — in a palpably peculiar insult to their mothers.  And as I like to say: if you are a self-made man, you have a fool for a maker.  Victims residing down the chain of injustice can mirror their perpetrators’ weighs by rattling the chain up or down, either giving the master curators of violence another specimen for their museum of humanity, or perhaps honing one’s hurt on someone even less able or willing to react commensurately.  The predictability of violence is captured in the insularity, unaccountability, and disconnect from humanity (their own and others’) that perpetrators of the powers that be experience in wanting mastery over their own lives.  The predictability of violence among victims is rooted in the reactionary reality that hurt people hurt people.  People tend to do what they know.  Can we know peace and justice, or at least cultivate its possibility?  While experiencing the hurt of violence and injustice can be a powerful impetus to respond unkind, it can also be a profound invitation to solidarity, empathizing, connecting and standing with others, each of who have experiences of hurt and injustice.  This is an aspect of God’s mysterious “preferential option for the poor” whereby reality is constructed in such a way that the poor have better access to their humanity than the rich.  As Brethren to awe/And cistern of tears we are better equipped to join together and bring peace and justice into the whirled.  May it be so.

POEM: The Taoist Dowager

The Taoist dowager
Bends gently to that before her
Inclined to bless
Those below
Indivisible
To the high and mighty
Wholly touched
Braille beyond the see
Maid of tender harmonies
Composed
Of one, a chord
The maladies of life joyfully singing
Farming the music of our years
Covered by perfect lines
Of what may be
Momentarily forgotten
Only later recalled
By progeny
And prodigy
And even those
Occupying there posterity
Like some kind of bum
Or a baggy lady
Udderly fool of it
From cradle to grave
Fully pampered
Content
To cede generations
For a moment
For hour
A muse meant
This consummate ode lady
Siren from beyond hear
A thirst only quenched
By water on the rocks
Having strung out
Countless improbable moments
A mist
An impossible life
Beyond contemplation
Not getting bent
On 100% proof
With a taste that smacks of grace
A singular savor
Unpalletable to sum
Treated like a fragrant
Bye others
Having
Perfected that groovy hide
From a rash
Of uncommon sense
Fore hers
Such an inconceivable vehicle
As chary it
Like the wind borne
In quiet the mine
A sentience unabridged
Having awe ready arrived
A slow motion ninja
Only to be
In what will be
Carried away
In eternity

This poem emanated from the title phrase, Taoist dowager, that emerged from one of my many ruminations.  As is often the case, a phrase that is too good to pass up grows into a complete poem.  I am drawn to Taoist philosophy and Eastern thought in that it seems to quite reliably offer balance to Western modes of thought and being.  The dowager metaphor is apropos in that it is typically a feminine sensibility that is the antidote to afford balance to dominant and domineering Western male culture.  Plus, wisdom is often rightly associated with increasing age and experience, not the least of which is experiencing and reflecting on the vulnerability inherent in senescence.  Buddhists make a practice of meditating on their own inevitable death, not as popular a practice among the young and seemingly invulnerable.  Nonetheless, Taoism claims the ever-present and eternal as accessible in the now, a certain holy equality, a pathless path, perpetually wooing us with enlightenment experiences that cannot be grasped but hold the key to living in harmony with reality and all living beings.  The folly of every age is to try to reduce such knowledge and wisdom to some type of elixir that can be bought, or more to the point, sold.  Even after being taken countless times, the allure of the latest snake oil quite reliably rouses our more base instincts.  The basest instinct blocking our experience of the Tao, the Way, is to take, for our self to acquire something from an other.

Clearly, in the Way of things, things come our way.  However, being given, to receive something, and taking, claiming something as one’s own private possession, are opposite perspectives.  Being given, receiving, is an attitude of gratitude and selflessness.  Taking is an attitude of greed and selfishness.  Now, Taoism is lauded for its mastery of complimentariness, the understanding that opposites interpenetrate each other and are only conceivable in contrast to one another; e.g., you can’t conceive of light without dark, or tall without short.  There is little doubt that a deep appreciation for the complimentary nature of reality is a powerful tool to keep us honest and on track in perceiving and aligning our life with reality.  Still, there are clues within each opposite to their relationship to the Whole, the Tao.  Its conceivable to me that people could live in perfect harmony, without contradiction, with an attitude of gratitude. It is inconceivable to me that people can live as greedy takers without contradictory and irreconcilable selves.  In the mysterious light of the Whole, gratitude is more consonant with reality.  Further, taking, claiming something as one’s own private possession, without any claim upon it from elsewhere is simply self-assertion.

There seems to be a consensus among philosophers and theologians of all stripes and perspectives that human beings cannot be the ground of their own being.  On one end of the spectrum this was most famously articulated by John Paul Sartre in his book, nay tome, Being and Nothingness, which built the intellectual foundation of modern existentialism.  On the other end of the spectrum, most human beings throughout human history have claimed life to be a gift from God (or gods).  Sartre and some others are content to contend that human freedom is condemned to naked self-assertions, however well-clothed in rationalizations.  God-seeking humans have sought a source of life, a ground for their being, a giver who is also a subject, not a happenstance collection of stardust within a serendipitously profoundly ordered universe.  The harshest and most minimalist existentialists settle for an existence where subjects cannot truly meet, or, if taken most strictly, cannot even be confident that other subjects even exist.  Such a bizarre assertion is welcomed by God skeptics who cannot fathom a Subject, but the corollary laughable denial of other human subjects’ existence is kept conveniently and shamefully out of public consciousness.  Taoists and many philosophers of consciousness posit something akin to a Consciousness that all consciousnesses partake in, a whole in which each part is inescapably in relationship with, even if well-clothed in ignorance and plausible deniability.  Christians speak of being made in the image of God.  Taoists, perhaps the least literal in their claims, allude to a dynamic Whole that informs our being of the Way.

A beloved metaphor often employed by Taoists is water, with all of its life-giving and unusual properties yet part of daily, seemingly-mundane experience.  The one who lives fluidly like water moves easily around that which is hardened.  Yet water, given time (an equally mysterious aspect of life), wears down mountains [see patience as the mother of all virtues!].  This poem gives a tip of the hat to this water metaphor with the lines: A thirst only quenched/By water on the rocks.  Thirst cannot even be conceived without quenching — unless perhaps you have the brutally masochistic tendencies of an orthodox atheist existentialist who braves permanent and absolute alienation (from even one’s self).  The line, Siren from beyond hear, intimates the dangerous half of thirst.  The water on the rocks alludes to the sober attention needed to recognize that water and ice (on the rocks) are fundamentally the same stuff, just in a different form.  Having strung out/Countless improbable moments/A mist/An impossible life/Beyond contemplation.  When faced with conundrums and uncertainties, there is a common tendency to hear beguiling Sirens and throw ourselves against the rocks.  Sober minds recognize this as A mist/An impossible life/Beyond contemplation/Not getting bent/On 100% proof.  In embodying an attitude of gratitude and selflessness connected to the One, one can quiet the mine/A sentience unabridged/Having awe ready arrived/A slow motion ninja/Only to be/In what will be/Carried away
In eternity.  May it be so.

 

POEM: The History of Civilization

They lived in the period of civilization
A properly punctuated death sentience
That no’s know end

This poem is a reflection on the deathly aspects of so-called civilization, its facade of propriety, and penchant for denial.  The members of most any civilization view their civilization as the pinnacle civilization, at least when compared to other competing civilizations — even to the point of war to prove their superiority.  There is typically present an overwhelming hubris that their civilization will continue indefinitely, which is a serious misreading of actual history.  Only through a selective lack of awareness, typically fostered by societal elites benefiting from the status quo, can such a myth be perpetuated to its inevitable demise.  American exceptionalism is perhaps the perfect exemplar of such a self-serving ideal.  What more dangerous ideology and destructive mythology is there than an entire nation built on the notion that it’s rules apply to others but can be “excepted” for oneself when convenient.  The rule of law devolves simply into rule.  Such an Achilles heel is especially tragic because Achilles is so strong, seemingly invincible.  Still, as any such civilization has its period, so shall its sentence come to an end.

POEM: Be Riffed of Life

He said
“The world is inert.”
I said
“You mean
Dead?”
He re-plied
That it is
Assure thing
Beyond doubt
I queeried
“On your incite
Or the out?”
By all means
Necessary
As you must
And arbitrary mold
No higher power
Showing favor
To indistinguishable accidents
Through grub
And poorly aimed reproductions
Equally fluked
Know matter
How ever wondrous fits
Due too survivalists
All ready
Be rift of life

This poem is inspired by many encounters that I have had with people who pose a materialist philosophy or perspective on “life” — that inexplicably animated portion of our “inert” universe.  I have to chuckle a little, and mourn a bit, as this view that the universe is dead matter strikes me as a surpassingly surreal projection of one’s inner experience, as either incurious, blind, or in denial about the mysterious nature of nature.  A striking feature of subjectivity is that we tend to see the world as we are, not as the world is.  That anyone would argue that we are dead seems to preclude any lively conversation!  Fortunately, I often don’t listen to what people say.  I generally assume that if someone’s lips are moving that they are alive, despite their best arguments against it.  While anti-evolutionists manage to embody their arguments with their epic failure to evolve, materialists betray themselves with every movement, especially the ones that claim deep self-reflection.  Nonetheless, I strongly suspect that it is better to be riffed of life than bereft of life.  Pay no attention to the dummies behind the curtain, moving their lips but to know a veil.

POEM: A Royal Buzzkill

Bee
The change
That you wish
In the whirled
Too see
O Mother Earth
Undertaking
Men o’ pause
In-fertility rite
As nature fecund wanes
A roil buzzkill
Soon with death teeming
Wear is thy sting
Extincting that human race
Soully certifiable reproductions
Unfit as a specious
Forerunners to know end
Yet today, this solitary caged bird sings
Like a canary
In a cold mine
With its deadly presents
Colorless and odious executioner
The lynch pin of anonymous hoods
Haunting all
That which is called “natural”
Sow fumes miasma
Till hour last breath

This poem is another mournful environmental poem, with the steady decline of bees as the proverbial canary in the coal mine for the deathly threat to the ecology of the earth.  Of course, the stoic denial and fatalism of human-induced climate change through fossil fuel consumption reaps a Mother Earth whose only defense may be to open a Pandora’s box capable of “naturally” selecting the human race from an internal combustion race to a mere foot race, where humans are no longer large enough scale to crash the entire planet’s ecological system.  If we don’t change course and evolve into an ecologically-sustainable species, we will be devolved into a much less dominant species.  Whether this would represent an evolution or devolution would have to be reflected upon by many fewer homo sapiens.

While we as a species are still living high on the fumes of burning fossil fuels, the buzzkill of bee genocide may lead the way to the end of agriculture as we know it, and the end of human culture as we know it.  Our unchecked industrialism, fueled by the burning of carbon-based energy forms, may very well lead to our checking out as the predominant species on earth.  Could this bee the end of the world? as so aptly asked in an article of the same title (with a now extinct link!):

Albert Einstein once said: “If the bee disappeared off the surface of the globe then man would only have four years of life left. No more bees, no more pollination, no more plants, no more animals, no more man.”

Einstein wasn’t an insect expert but he had a point. The humble honeybee is an integral part of the global ecosystem. Honey is just one aspect of what this entomological wonder does. As a pollinator it ensures crops reproduce, so although a world without honey would be a poorer place, man would survive. But without plants, we’d become extinct.

…On a global scale, it is estimated a third of the food we eat is pollinated by bees…

…The introduction to the 2010 UNEP [United Nations Environment Programme] report into global bee colony disorders puts the insects’ plight in context. It states, “Current evidence demonstrates that a sixth major extinction of biological diversity event is under way. The Earth is losing between 1 and 10 per cent of biodiversity per decade, mostly due to habitat loss, pest invasion, pollution, over-harvesting and disease.” It asked, “Has a ‘pollinator crisis’ really been occurring during recent decades, or are these concerns just another sign of global biodiversity decline?”

Unchecked domination is not the nature of nature.  Either homo sapiens will learn to live in harmony with nature as a whole, or our ability to dominate will be cut down to scale.  As throughout countless generations, we are faced with choosing harmony or destruction.  Nature has patiently endured our penchant for destruction.  Nature cannot be violated forever.  Nature’s feedback is gentle and generous.  Only fools destroy the hand that feeds them.  Will we be fools in the largesse weigh?

POEM: Dead Precedents

The whirled is full of dollereds
Strewing up our future
With dead precedents
And we no where
Greed takes us

This short poem addresses the persistence of greed, even though its poor outcomes are well documented and embedded in human experience.  The temptation to game the system and cheat reality by stirring up greed can only be explained by bad thinking or a shortage of moral fiber.  Of course, greed begets greed.  How could it be otherwise?  The moral compass we follow — or don’t follow — sets in motion a cascade of like results.  Greed and selfishness produces a shaky foundation and towering houses of cards and sharp objects as a testament to the denial of the gravity of the situation.  Life presents inescapable moral choices.  We may not like the choices available, but reality has a profound persistence and deep order.  It strikes me that a fundamental orientation or choice in life is whether to game the existing set of circumstances to one’s own marginal advantage and the whole’s marginal disadvantage, OR to commit one’s self to understanding and accepting the facts of human existence and devoting your existential force to participating in the good of the whole.  Saying “NO” to greed is a good start and landmark for the journey.  We know where greed takes us — to an unending chain of dead precedents; a world replete with moral dullards.  Disciplined compassion, joyful curiosity, and ebullient hope take us places better than we can even imagine, where we can be joyous and free in harmony with humanity and the created world.  May it be so.

POEM: Owed to Racism – That Whole In Our Soul

Owed to Racism: That Whole In Our Soul

Our life is
A thin line between
Loving hate
And hope filled madness
Dark mournings
And over joy
In this may hem together
To suture self
And community bound
For wince they came
Through painful needlings
Both sides
Right
And left
In stitches
Where it hurts to laugh
At such a heeling surgin’
Please
Do not real
At my site
Unless you are willing too
In counter me
Phase to phase
Offering me
More than mirror change
Wear wee are all scarred
Leaving behind
Broken images
In its place
Bad luck
And idol
Hands speaking
In victory clenched
Lifting up
The signs of the times
I am a man
And woo man
Never the less
Hearts beaten
As won
An incite job
Game to be fixed
Equal to awe before us
That whole in our soul
Onto grievous grounds spilling
Not simply in vein
As sometimes made pale
Sometimes colored
Weave all skin in the game
In this work of heart
For as it is read
Sow shall it be ridden
Free dumb
Of oppressor and oppressed alike
No longer sullen one another
Undertaking and overtaken
In the passed
To marrow
Never for gotten
Bidding us
To not be under souled
In the ours before us
Wresting in peace
So called
Beyond words
And belief
In action
To gather
With won voice
And undivided tension
Of won accord
Hand in hand
So becoming
Full circle
Un-brake-able

This anti-racism poem came out of my recent experience with a combating racism dialogue group, as part of a larger anti-racism initiative in Toledo.  This poem reflects both the devastation and intractability of racism and group members’ deep commitment and hope for a world free of racism.  The poem calls for united action to reclaim the wholeness of our community.  The level of denial of racism by white folks in America is staggering.  Confronting white privilege often makes even dialogue difficult.  Truly joining in solidarity to combat racism with concrete actions is often seen as unduly threatening to privileged whites.  I am grateful that Toledo has the wisdom and fortitude to operate these dialogue to change anti-racism groups.  May these groups unleash a juggernaut of positive social change for Toledo and the world!

POEM: For Shadowing a Life

She had saved
So much time and money
Only leaving
Too much too due
A well honed busyness
Yielding the best of the bust
A treasured chest
In hard times aplenty
Never the less
Predictably taking
A rugged helm
In a cagey realm
Plotting a cross
Lives less fortunate
To a steer
Clearing millions
For leaves of clover
And first class vocations
Such ruminations milking
To be cowed by no more than won
A gingerly bred man
Running as fast as he can
From what would eat him alive
So telling
In dropping old fox tales
As crossing too
The other side
Like a fish out of water
Or a scorpion getting a head
Of their fabled nature
A version of croaking
A pare for all time
Only to be left
A loan
Know matter
What shrewed investments
And generous self-helpings
She found herself
A sieve
Not the sort she counted on
A full colander emptied
Her labor saving devices
Gave birth
To so little
A listless family planning
Orphaned buy
A catalog of unequalled possessions
For shadowing a life
Reflecting on buy-gone delinquency
So quickly passing
In habiting exquisite coffers
Now coffin for discreet recognition
Mirrorly a pall bearing
In her high tech death bed
Stubbornly sterile
The best care money can buy
As in firm nursery
A weighting her delivery
As an empty car go
A body of controvertible evidence condemned
As howl I get through it
A void
A fading bellow
Of such eternal apprehension
I’m mortal
A rapidly reproaching sunset
Fallowing the light
Oh my brightness
And savvy hews
Will never be herd above
This inferno racket
Of contempt late
Ever wandering about the evil won
I can’t even
Here myself
I’d give
My hole life
Too take notice
Of any body et al
Letting out
A friendish laugh
In compassing
Nay gating
The presents of cloved feat
The beast of burden
Due another’s work
Seeking too earnest
For see
Forever dwelling
Wear you can’t take it
With you
All that
You don’t have

This poem is another reflection on the epic choices we make in our lives.  The would-be heroine in this poem settles for the heroin of a profitable job and a trophy husband (who eventually dumps her), only to find herself, perhaps too late, with failing health, facing death with a certain emptiness commensurate with her life.  Given busyness passing for worthiness, and material wealth passing for success, what passes for life fades into death.

In this poem, I allude to the fable of the scorpion and the frog, which goes so:

A scorpion and a frog meet on the bank of a stream and the scorpion asks the frog to carry him across on its back. The frog asks, “How do I know you won’t sting me?” The scorpion says, “Because if I do, I will die too.” The frog is satisfied, and they set out, but in midstream, the scorpion stings the frog. The frog feels the onset of paralysis and starts to sink, knowing they both will drown, but has just enough time to gasp “Why?” Replies the scorpion: “Its my nature…”

Most would agree that this cynical tail really stings!  Deathly self-destruction reverberates potential destruction to any in the vicinity.  Whatever constitutes such an irrational nature is a black hole for any logic or reason; worse yet, it resonates with a primal fear of the unknown (death being the great unknown), the proverbial abyss.  As long as we live in the shadow of scorpions, we must confront such deathly fear.  Of course, death comes to us all, but the river in which we are crossing over to the other side is denoted “denial” on many life maps.

Perhaps the highest state a human can attain is to face one’s own death with equanimity, particularly if it involves laying one’s own life down for another.  Most of us deal with our fear of death by justifying the death of others to preserve our own life, or ironically, our “way of life.”  This is not truly facing death, it’s trading another’s life for your own; thus, postponing your own facing of death.  Avoiding death by dealing out death to others is considered eminently rationale by most.  Preserving your own life, avoiding your own death, is viewed as a near-absolute value by most.  The right to self-defense is considered common sense.  Few would assail it.  Though some, like Jesus, Gandhi, or Martin Luther King, Jr., would make poor use of it.  The right to surrender one’s life for a higher purpose is considered noble, but beyond expectation for common folk.  Nonetheless, transcending one’s self is the only death-defying, even deathless, territory to reside within.  Inasmuch as humanity resides in the robustness of life, humans must transcend one’s self.  Humanists might consider humanity itself as the larger self to serve and in which to participate.  Transcendentalists might consider the larger self to transcend humanity, even transcending humanity plus nature. Either way, only through the whole can we find peace.  Accepting that life is bigger than us, and bigger than our death, can give us peace — provided that we are a true devotee of life, not death.

Scorpions, real or perceived, force us to confront our own nature and devotion to life.  The proverbial scorpion is perhaps best personified by “terrorists” in present-day America.  Terrorists are routinely and conveniently oversimplified to be scorpions.  Their nature is portrayed as both intractably irrational and completely predictably self-destructive.  In short, subhuman, unable to behave rationally, even in regards to self-preservation.  Those scraping the bottom of humanity at least send others to death to protect one’s own version of rationality.  We call these folks “generals” or even “Commander-in-Chief.”  Labeling that which we feel compelled to kill as subhuman is the only rationale way to preserve our notion of humanity.  This shot-full-of-holes rationale is an inhumane shortcut to deal with deathly fear by choosing death, for others

However, any dehumanization of others is a disproportionate focus or complete fixation on the scorpion nature present in humanity (and every human).  The potential for manifesting the scorpion nature is part of our nature.  The notion of “self” destruction simply rests on our notion of self.  If terrorists are not part of humanity, then we are free to kill them without killing part of our “self.” If terrorists are part of humanity, then we are not free to kill them and rationally claim “self” defense, since they are a part of the “self” of humanity.  No doubt, some would easily settle for maiming part of humanity, their humanity, to preserve their maimed image of humanity and have a hand in shaping which numerical portion survives the battle.  However, life is even larger than humanity, a point that probably has to be conceded by both humanists and transcendentalists.  Life does not need humans.  Life existed before humans.  Life could exist if humans become extinct (probably in grand gestures of “self” preservation).  To pay proper homage to life we must choose life as a whole, even if it happens to result in one’s self’s “premature” death (a death brought about by those less than mature).  Trusting that the whole of life is more important than our own self creates a harmony that propagates life.  Trusting that death is a more expedient way to preserve life is our scorpion nature!  One of the beauties of an ordered universe is that some things predictably follow others.  Paying homage to the whole of life brings peace to the piece we are.  Bringing death continues to confront us with repeating lessens, that death brings death, and killing others is killing our largest self.

Most simply put, from a more highly evolved point of view, killing is “self” destructive.  The irrationality of killing is our scorpion nature, a potential actualized when we can only see necessity and are blind to our freedom of choice.  Since freedom of choice is a part of human nature that must be manifest for us to be considered human, the denial of this freedom is a denial of our humanity, the death of humanity.  It is inhuman to deny that we are free.  It is inhumane to deny the freedom of others. Life bids us to more than we merely are.  Feel free to choose life!

POEM: Destiny Mending

Weave had to live
In the shadow
Of our looming
Self-destruction
It’s time
To take
A strand
Enough
All ready
As we hit the concrete
Beyond erudite
Threads on facebook
Virtually no matter
How tightly woven
Betwixt loose yarns spun
And kittens so darn cute
Attesting we are left
In stitches
Save one
Netting nein
In time
A tangled web we weave
World wide
From pirates patch
People unplugged
The dogs of war heeling
Affronting banks taken aback
A seaming democracy redressed
Mother nature returning
Good work for awe
And sew we go
Destiny mending

This poem is a call to address and confront the multiple fronts on which humanity is racing to its own destruction.  We seem to be endlessly enamored with our own cleverness, even in a desert of wisdom.  We look to technologies for salvation, only fearing that our best stories are of robot or zombie apocalypses.  We float down the lazy river of denial, only to distract ourselves should a toe touch shore.  We beg the powers that be for even soul-numbing jobs to prop up feudal consumerism in earth-destroying lifestyles.  We mine virtual realities for solace and fleeting rations of hope.  We have descended even far below the bite of an apple.  But alas, perhaps even a simple taste of reality can lure us back to overturn the moneychangers, starve the dogs of war, and cradle a gentle democracy in a provident nature.  Hope springs eternal when we can see past winter takes all…

POEM: God Gets a Bad Wrap

God gets a bad wrap
As do men
Gloom
Over
Rite and wrong
Babies borne of bathwater
Throne buy themselves
Like clay
Giving rise
To the pitter potter of little feats
And inconceivable images
Speaking out laud
In a class by themselves
Bastards won and all
In celestial relationships
With awe thumbs up
Too given the slip
Sow fatefully fired
Knot from above
Hardened arts of ode
And stone code making cooler heads
Commandments all deca-ed out
Can you digit
For what remains
Won in the mettle
No’ing only gods enflesh
And bones picking
Wons fecund knows
As dead pan humors
And how to think themselves
Outside the box
And portending wake
Only breaking
That awkward silence
And bound curiosity
Ex-splaying stuff
A coffin in drag
Employed in the coroner office
As doody-full janitors
So disposed
In a sweeping universe
Taken out
Behind the would should
Wile hearts still
Beating
Out standing in there feeled
Straw men ghostly flailing
Which came first
The bunny or the egg?
An ironic inquisition
Unable to eat crow
So far a field
Full of crop
Making hay
Of men
Which can’t be bailed
As so determined
Only Abel to must-er
Barren stock aid
A vestigial humanity
Remains incalculable
Even as calculating
Blinded by the blight
Reckoning slight unseen
Nothing sound to be hold
No peeps to be herd
In this objective a praise
Un-re-lie-able reports
Of being touched
During wholly observances
Untraceable soles
Save those who follow
A fare hearing too steep
Know inviting savor to a t
Angles abandoning
No read scent to be found
Not to be
Incensed by fragrant violations of logic
Having bin burned before
And thinking it novel
Sticking to non-friction
Yet a tribute to nothing a tract
Easily excepting gravity
And perhaps animal magnetism
In a random house
A glorious reproduction
Fit to survive
In terminable halls of tomes
Covering smiles from end to end
Atlas, holding the whirled
And shrugging
As passé
Ages of old
Quipped with a thesaurus
In countering the unspeakable
Super seeding doubt
Calling out
Awe hail
Too the faithful
As libel to slander
Of rites unridden
And xenophobic farces
Poorly versed
Caricatures
With drawing
From think wells
Drying too hard
Distasteful to unknown palettes
A vapid likeness
Running lapse
Around good taste
For bitter or worse
Never winning
The grace
Unfounded
Even though profits speaking
Assure us
From the freely given
We make the most sense
Only from blessed assumption
Are we
Infer the right of our life
Or in ability
To take our hunch back
And so stoop id
Egos on and on
Un-till
We are
Super
With unassuming cape-ability
There is all ways won more
Last sup pose
Surrounded by friends
Or enemies
So tight
God sheds tears
In a wrap so taut
A hide sew made
Pelted by the dead
The cruelest of stoles
Witnessed ever
Only
Escaping such a cloak
From beyond assent
As leapers never heeled
By any crowning bluff
Transcending any convictions
Illiciting something knew
Surpassing the bounds of a head
A risqué gambol
When all that you are
Goes for bust
Never able to hold its own
In the public square
Spilling the truth
On all who will here
Should their eyes beam
And motes be crossed
To take a hike to knew places
Where nothing will be left
Wanting more
Even when full
Groan

This poem is a long elaboration of a familiar theme of mine: the transcendent bigness of God and the cramped quarters built by man’s hubris.  The poles of this theme are occupied by scientifically unverifiable but glorious experience of life and the denial of God, often on the grounds that any mental packaging of God is necessarily inadequate, a too messy foundation for some.  The mystical reality that no description of God can do God justice is fodder for both believers and skeptics.  Those anywhere on the spectrum from belief/openness to skepticism/denial are doomed to at least some measure of failure trying to give God any wrap in human terms.  Believing in an open-ended God that cannot be put in a box strikes me as a rather predictable characteristic of the creator of life — life being a dynamic and messy endeavor.  To continue maturation beyond a certain point as a human, belief is necessary — necessarily messy.  Those who are agnostic strike me as trying to avoid confronting this juncture between the transcendent and the mundane.  I think this can leave one developmentally disabled or delayed.  Deniers strike me as having more hubris than tenuous believers because they must assert certainty to disqualify the question as a legitimate question.  Of course, the is a seductive simplicity to addressing the nature of transcendence by simply saying it doesn’t exist.  But, like Einstein said, “Make things as simple as possible, but not simpler.”

Disagreements about God probably have little meaning as an abstract intellectual argument.  God is definitely too big to fit in your head!  Our conceptions related to the God question are ultimately questions of power.  There seems to be a universal tendency in humans to not be lorded over by others.  This part of our nature can serve both skepticism and belief.  Questioning authority is a natural process when ultimate authority is open-ended and messy.  Belief in such a higher power, one that doesn’t want submission but rather co-creative participation, frees us rather than enslaves us.  Reality is bigger than our self.  In at least one inescapable sense, we’ve gotta serve somebody or something (for those more comfortable with the impersonal).  Bob Dylan captured this sense well in his song, Gotta Serve Somebody:

You may be an ambassador to England or France
You may like to gamble, you might like to dance
You may be the heavyweight champion of the world
You may be a socialite with a long string of pearls

But you’re gonna have to serve somebody, yes indeed
You’re gonna have to serve somebody
Well, it may be the devil or it may be the Lord
But you’re gonna have to serve somebody

You might be a rock ’n’ roll addict prancing on the stage
You might have drugs at your command, women in a cage
You may be a businessman or some high-degree thief
They may call you Doctor or they may call you Chief

But you’re gonna have to serve somebody, yes indeed
You’re gonna have to serve somebody
Well, it may be the devil or it may be the Lord
But you’re gonna have to serve somebody

You may be a state trooper, you might be a young Turk
You may be the head of some big TV network
You may be rich or poor, you may be blind or lame
You may be living in another country under another name

But you’re gonna have to serve somebody, yes indeed
You’re gonna have to serve somebody
Well, it may be the devil or it may be the Lord
But you’re gonna have to serve somebody

You may be a construction worker working on a home
You may be living in a mansion or you might live in a dome
You might own guns and you might even own tanks
You might be somebody’s landlord, you might even own banks

But you’re gonna have to serve somebody, yes indeed
You’re gonna have to serve somebody
Well, it may be the devil or it may be the Lord
But you’re gonna have to serve somebody

You may be a preacher with your spiritual pride
You may be a city councilman taking bribes on the side
You may be workin’ in a barbershop, you may know how to cut hair
You may be somebody’s mistress, may be somebody’s heir

But you’re gonna have to serve somebody, yes indeed
You’re gonna have to serve somebody
Well, it may be the devil or it may be the Lord
But you’re gonna have to serve somebody

Might like to wear cotton, might like to wear silk
Might like to drink whiskey, might like to drink milk
You might like to eat caviar, you might like to eat bread
You may be sleeping on the floor, sleeping in a king-sized bed

But you’re gonna have to serve somebody, yes indeed
You’re gonna have to serve somebody
Well, it may be the devil or it may be the Lord
But you’re gonna have to serve somebody

You may call me Terry, you may call me Timmy
You may call me Bobby, you may call me Zimmy
You may call me R.J., you may call me Ray
You may call me anything but no matter what you say

You’re gonna have to serve somebody, yes indeed
You’re gonna have to serve somebody
Well, it may be the devil or it may be the Lord
But you’re gonna have to serve somebody

In life, as in tennis, even before the first serve, there is never zero, only love.  It is only our need to score points that obscures this primal reality.

POEM: A Ghastly Alchemy

For just
Some
Dam
Weepin’s permit
I protect and serve
Up my enemies
Like
Cold
Turkey
Shoot
Only to rifle
But growing ode
In a ghastly alchemy
Silver bullets turning to lead
Down the wrong path
Instantly poisoned
Hearts and minds
In the cruelest democracy
Community going
For broke
The simplest solution
Drunk
With wons
Britches down
In a flash
A bad moon rising
Eclipsing gumption
In the forced
And bye-ways
Camouflaging knights
And daze
Seeing evil
Through darkness
And narrow sites
Seeing in for red
Aimed for more heat than light
As mirror man
Shutters a mist
The in side out
As awe the rage
For their own
Good
I mean
Bad

Here is yet another poem against gun violence.  When it comes to ballads not bullets, I have plenty of ammunition.  Besides just being cruel, violence is inherently anti-democratic.  There are inescapable conundrums in eliminating, or threatening to eliminate, other people as a form of building community.  Of coarse, many people are willing to sacrifice another than do the hard work of making high ideals manifest.  Even the concept of “self” defense razes issues of human rights, inclusiveness, and the sacredness of life.  There is little doubt that practicing nonviolence takes great discipline and sacrifice.  This is in sharp contrast to the so-called “last-resort” of violence that so lazily creeps up to number one.

At what price do we give up our freedom to practice nonviolence?  The Faustian bargain of violence offers an escape from the rigors of morality and authentic community by claiming, “They made me do it,” a convenient denial of one’s freedom — and another’s!  Of course, the enforcement of might makes right extracts the bulk of the price from others, the opposite of self-discipline and sacrifice.  Creating community is costly, just as destroying community is costly.  The real question is: Who pays the cost and who reaps the benefits (in the case of destruction, of what remains)?  As in the dysfunction of capitalism, where greed and selfishness are raised up as virtues necessary to “progress”, violence is about getting the most benefit for oneself (and one’s kin) at the lowest cost to oneself.  Not surprisingly, when the lowest common denominator is oneself, and greed is a virtue, community, which prospers on the common good, suffers. The fundamental problem is that the destruction of violence extracts a cost from the whole (community) that can only be rationalized in piecemeal, selfish fashion.  Violence is an attempt to shift a cost to others.  This works in part when you force others to experience loss due to your violence, and the cost of this is disproportionately shared by your victims.  However, there is no substitute for your own moral agency.  Your responsibility cannot be “cost shifted” to others (only the effects of your irresponsibility can).  This is the irrevocable loss of moral failings. Morality is simply exercising your freedom in a responsible way.  Saying you don’t have a choice, e.g, “They made me do it,” is a cop out.  Morality isn’t easy; if it was, everybody would be doing it!  In short, wielding lethal weapons is perhaps the worst way to demonstrate personal responsibility.  Guns are the lowest form of community.  Even if guns are the last resort, this is not a resort in which I want to live.