POEM: Pirate Queen

Wile the sands of time
Make some wail and blubber
In the aye of the storm
You could sea it
In the wides of her eyes
Shown as bright as a thousand stars
Her pupils
As deep and rapturous
As awe
The sorrow in the whirled
Helled in a black pearl
Living
Well
Off
The grid
And passing lifeless commerce
On to
They’re game
For her
The sky her hood
And at her feat
Scintillating gems
To the world’s end
And yon unknown
Beyond where the sleepy wrest

This poem is a tribute to a wild and free anarchist spirit anchored in nature and at home around kindred spirits, with little use for civilization’s offerings of money, status and power.  Free range human beings surf present reality and choose their own adventures a mist life’s boundless bounty.  Choose Your Own Adventure [anarchism symbol as A] POLITICAL BUTTONThe metaphor of a pirate may stretch for sum the sensibilities of pondered — and often ponderous — proprieties.  The deep harmonies of free spirits in touch with nature run far deeper than superficial constraints of law and order.  Free spirits acting outside the bounds of one or another’s tribal laws would be hard pressed to do more damage to the human soul than the many machinations of so-called civilization, harboring dark unconscious farces in the tallest of social orders.  The metaphor of royalty — a queen — may seem queer as a descriptor of an anarchist, even a rank description.  Free Range Human Being - POLITICAL BUTTONStill, throne to the wind, such captains of destiny are happy presiding over surfboards rather than commanding Titanics.  Such a precarious existence may be too exhilarating for many, but may very well be better suited to the human spirit than the many comfortable cages and designer chains so fashionable buy civilization.  May we each wake to our incalculable futures and sail far beyond whatever fears we may be harboring.

Feel free to browse anarchism and radical freedom designs:

Anarchy is Not What You See on TV - POLITICAL BUTTONWALK Around Like You Own Yourself, It's YOUR Life, Take Control Of It POLITICAL BUTTONThis is What an Anarchist Looks Like POLITICAL BUTTON

I Think, Therefore I Am Dangerous POLITICAL BUTTONhe only way to deal with an unfree world is to become is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion -- Albert Camus quote POLITICAL BUTTONI Want A Future That Can't Be Bought (Heart Cloud) - POLITICAL BUTTON

Got Dogma SPIRITUAL BUTTONBigger Cages, Longer Chains - FUNNY POLITICAL BUTTON

POEM: Namaste

Who dares ax
Why I am
Sow meta for
As the spear it in me
Razes up
Too meat the spirit in you

http://www.toppun.com/Religious-Spiritual/Buttons/Don-t-Have-A-Sacred-Cow-SPIRITUAL-BUTTON.htmlThis poem is an ode to my favorite version of the greeting “namaste:” may the spirit in me rise up to meet the spirit in you.  My poetic version plays with the meeting of the spiritual and physical, the spirit and the flesh.  How do the sublime and the crude coexist?  The short answer is that life is marvelously messy.  Daring to question why I am the way I am can be a precarious project.  Delving into why the great “I AM” is “I AM” can be downright dangerous.  Existence is puzzling; essence more sow.  One of my projects in life is to be in touch with my bastard nature, daring “too meat” the spirit in you.  The churning of my spirit yearns to kiss the whirled of flesh, and perhaps more.  The paradox of “Razes up” speaks to the inextricable cycles of destruction and creation, countless resurrections, risings up from the ashes like a phoenix. Re-born Again and again and again and again SPIRITUAL BUTTON This is a death-defying game: “the spear it in me.”  Still, I like to stir things up.  Things that are settled strike me as dead.  My Karma Ran Over Your Dogma. SPIRITUAL BUTTONWhere there is pretension, expect to be punctuated with vulgarity.  Where there is cynicism, expect to be flooded by my delugings of unabashed hope.  I will hurl sublime poetry over your ahead, but I won’t pick at your soars.  I will lob softballs to hit you out of park, but know one will keep score.  The hallowed and the hollowed will mete.  There are plenty of weepin’s in this life too be had.  How ever, weather I reach hi or lo, behold my arse and all.  Think good that the pun is mightier than the sored!  What ever this life is, it is the most beautiful thing I ever metaphor.  Metaphors Be With You SPIRITUAL BUTTONNamaste.

 

 

 

 

 

Please feel free to check out other spirit-filled, inspiring and life challenging designs:

A Conclusion Is The Place Where You Got Tired Of Thinking SPIRITUAL BUTTONIf you are in control, then you are going too slow. SPIRITUAL BUTTONWhy not go out on a limb? Isn't that where the fruit is? Mark Twain quote SPIRITUAL BUTTON

Not All Who Wander Are Lost SPIRITUAL BUTTONFind Your Own Way -- Buddha SPIRITUAL BUTTONThey will say you are on the wrong road, if it is your own. Antonio Porchia quote SPIRITUAL BUTTON

Don't take life so seriously. Nobody gets out alive anyway. SPIRITUAL BUTTONFirst Things First But Not Necessarily in That Order SPIRITUAL BUTTONReality is for people who lack imagination. SPIRITUAL BUTTON

BORN AGAIN and Again and Again SPIRITUAL BUTTONEver Wonder? SPIRITUAL BUTTONGot Inspiration SPIRITUAL BUTTON

The Beginning is Near SPIRITUAL BUTTON

POEM: How Does It Awe End?

Sow ponderous are wee
The nature of God
And
God of nature
Never two be the same
As one
Awe weighs
Whichever becoming
Created in won mine
Weather mirror mortals
Or I am parish-able being
A quest in during
Too haves
And halve knots
Regarding the spirit of what matters
Neither helled fast
Nor celestially slowed buy death
And aft-er life each claiming
Stern up trouble
Figuring the other’s sale is rigged
Know cents in fallowing
What is billed of star board
Oar all is port
As solid grounds a mast
Exceeded only by wind
Assumptions and renunciations
From the back spew and affront row
A mist
The sow called
Whys
Only wandering
How does it awe end

I am prone to venture into the dangerous arena of speculation on the nature of God in efface of skepticism and the idle juggernaut of cynicism.  This poem is about awe, that and much more.  I view awe as a primary experience of what I would term spiritual or mystical.  I find awe uplifting.  Dissecting life rarely leaves life still living.  In do coarse, most arguments about God or any sublime reality devolve into reductive thinking and defensive emotional stances, regardless of one’s belief in common ground or sacred spaces.  I am skeptical of any view of humans as solely common ground.  I am also skeptical of the races of men to lay claim to the sublime spaciousness that is sacred.  Awe is elusive.  The spirit is like the wind, as we know not where it comes from or where it goes.  I suppose that it would not be an unwarranted characterization to say the awe is my religion.  Of course, awe and wonder are the enemy and antidote to dogmas, in this dogma eat dogma world wee in habit.  Sow, this poem is a bout finding a place where awe does not end, where awe is not exiled from our ideology of the moment.  May you ask wise as you wander, and as you find awe that you are seeking, make more of it.

POEM: Are You A Friend of Dorothy?

As a friend of Dorothy Day
I wood ax
More than won quest in
A bout
Her call
As a tenet in passable saint hood
As if a priest to nun
Or mirror lay person
Aborting gaiety
As an infallible sign of God’s presents
Kneaded, sow kneaded
As abandon plays on
The Catholic work her
Inn to their starting lyin’ up
With little roam for others
As prize winning dogmas
For sake others
Worshiping sons of bitches
Of average Joes and Mary not
Engendering grace
Threw con genital souls
Full of wholes
As if litter
Miss carrion
Never coming to term
Without a hitch
Only finding one self
One to an other
Side by side
Fitting awe
For lives filled with scant do
An offering more than
Sum well
Published comic marvel
As if conceivable in a man’s world
A loan
To the wrest of us
She could never look down to prey
And yet sow much
Heaven unearth
Her whole life sew true
And in those untolled smiles spanning eternity
She most lovingly waives
It just
Saint so
What
Ever you due
Don’t save
Awe of the gory
Fore God
As will only
In yore wildest dreams
Hand it
Back to you
With teeming interest
As got yours
And every body ails

This poem was inspired by the occasion of Pope Franky coming to America and highlighting the possibility of Dorothy Day becoming a saint.  This is deeply ironic, since Dorothy Day explicitly did not want to be written off as a saint, but cast her lot with the poor and dispossessed of the world.  As a former atheist who lost the earthly love of her life by converting to Catholicism, which he rejected holy, she was familiar with heartache.  As a women who had an abortion, I find her consideration for sainthood more intriguing.  Her founding role in the Catholic Worker movement challenged and vexed religious folks — and people of faith as well.  Her living with the poor and downtrodden is a model of solidarity.  This poem posits questions of elite status, which she resoundingly rejected, as holy separate from her understanding of Jesus, the spirit of God incarnate.  The title of the poem — Are You A Friend of Dorothy? — is both a question and a reference to the cultural necessity of gay folks needing code words and phrases to navigate in a culture where they are rejected.  Dorothy Day, about as keenly aware of class as possible sought to transcend it.  She was an itinerant peace-monger, ever-seeking creating those sacred spaces where one side fits all. She knew that salvation was not far off, but right in front of us, in awe its gory details.  She knew what second-class citizenship was, not simply by being a woman in a man’s world or a man’s church, but by daring to embrace the poverty of more than one class and bring a bout wealth, and the privilege to serve.  Her rightness with God is dishonored by trying to capture that spirit in the form of graven images, mere token substitutes for her authentically beautiful and unique, but totally accessible life.  I don’t suspect that Dorothy would approve of a title of sainthood.  I do suspect that she would want us to walk with her.  And in this case, that would be walking among the dead and the living, and everywhere in between.

POEM: A Re-View of a Plunk Rock Band, Tossing Watery Graves

I want it awe
Yet what do you no
What measures
Must we take
From emanate ripples
He helled the earth in his hand
Of what intimated
Of know consequence
A dinky mount
To sky ward heavin’
Hoping only to rock the whirled
Impelled to sea
In escapable gravity
Never in visioning
That there is
None boulder
In his pond-erous
And Sisyphean weigh
Casting all he once held dear
As flippin’ grovel
Into an unbroken mirror
As just
Hanging in
Con centric circles
Learning too a bridge lessen
As a bait
Waving less and less
To say good buy
As their reach is their largesse
Only to leave us
With an eerie qualm
And little
If any thing
To take
To the bank
Shoring up any pausible hope
Un-availed by the human I
Wither or not
As poetry
Reduced to pros
As awe things reckon
As precisely quota’d
A praising every angle
Bent on wane
Every thing
That is
Having fits
The scale
Leaving us
The lit-less
And immeasurable whoppers
The won with abacuses and slyed rule
Counting upon the inevitable apple
Fallen from trees on shore
Given too fruity beaches
With nothing
Better to do
A Newtonian uni-verse
As if
Dispatching
A lagoon squad
In sum kind of egression analysis
In a bounty us pool of data
Free from water
Fishing
In err
With out-land-ish loch
On learning
Of fall-ibility
Grounded in certitude
Agitated a bout
Tsunamis of certainty
And faintest freedom
Fueled agin
Too buy too
An arc
Reliant up on
Being largely stoned
And heading south
All the faster
To murky depths
Still
In this abyssal life
Wear there is
Every thing but
Life re-sides
In a soul place
For awe
As be-wilder-ed
Knot mirrorly a void
A stones throw aweigh
As be guiled
Cursory-ing like a sailor
Skimming the mirror surface
A mist watery solutions
Crying out
Over an abyss
All armed a bout
Drowning in what
We are trying
Too divine
What you can count on
Ripple™
In hitting one’s bottom
Throne down a well
As per cent
100 proof
Making a wish
Of scientific rigor
Sow rarefied
As iron out
Of awe that is mist
Worshipping statutes
That no copper can enforce
Nailing the truth to dead wood
Caskets and buckets
Lowered
Hung out too dry
Bailing out
Awe that is well
A tempting
Sow perverse
Amiss under stood
Plunk rock band
Billowing out
In con sequential
To sum
So poor tending
The easily fluttered
And shirking
That beneath us
Or sow a peer
Do be us
As it may seam
Take me littoral
And fathom deeply
The coast of freedom
Fore who knows
More of that which swells
Those who lead
Unfetid lives
Learning their keep
In this
Life unearth
Or those who undertake
Properly measured lives
In a dogma eat dogma whirled
Vainly exacting an incalculable prize
On each and every won
For in
The sweet by and by
It is
Better to be
Taken in
Than taking out
Rulers
And measuring cups
In the see of life

This poem goes out to my friend, Toby, who in a conversation a couple of evenings ago inspired and quasi-commissioned a poem (and blog entry) around the metaphor of fathoming the ripples from a stone being thrown in a body of water.  In our conversation this was about measuring the effects of our actions, specifically social justice actions, as to the effect they have on the world and its inhabitants.  The hope was to better harness this knowledge in order to parlay it into more effective actions.

This poem tackles a familiar theme of mine: how a fixation on scientific-reductionistic methods weigh too often rob us of access to deeper meanings.  So, here goes:

Most of my life, my working assumption has been that if other folks just knew what I knew that they would act congruently with me.  I don’t put much stock in this assumption anymore.  Hell, much of the time, I don’t even act congruently with the knowledge with which I have been blessed.  I have spent many moments and years projecting my sense of rationality onto others.  I have spent many moments and years projecting my favored modes of rationalization onto others.  Don’t get me wrong, I believe that reality is deeply ordered and that this order is accessible, even more so than we usually think.  I am still cursed with the double-edged sword of an abundance of right opinion.  Still, I have come to more deeply appreciate that we act more out of our emotional sensibilities, which are profoundly molded by our self-interest, whether that interest is privileged or disenfranchised.  I view our emotional sensibilities and the sum total in our life of our various privileges and disenfranchisements as the primary drivers of our actions, over and above our routine thinkings.  In fact, motivational and behavioral research shows that the primary causal direction of changed attitudes is from behavior, not knowledge.  In other words, our attitudes change more from changing behaviors than changing knowledge.  This is caught up in a matrix of cognitive dissonance, where we have a powerful need to make sense of our lives as it is at any given moment, and rationalizations supporting any given status quo are favored.  Changing what we do, voluntarily or involuntarily, shifts our attitudes much more robustly than even large changes in knowledge.  This undergirds the suggestion of “fake it til you make it,” recognizing the power of cognitive dissonance to drive our attitudes and thinking to match our behavior.  While this may seem inauthentic to some degree, simply compare it to the endemic hypocrisies represented by vastly incongruous knowledge and beliefs with our behavior.  This also gives a tip of the hat to the classical liberal paradigm of the importance of environmental conditions.  Our own personal collections of privileges and disenfranchisements, either personally or socially, are weigh more important to making sense of our behavior than cataloging, or even changing, our knowledge and beliefs. In sum, knowledge is routinely over-weighed in behavior change and social change.

My view is that plumbing the nature of our own privilege and disenfranchisement is a much firmer foundation upon which to build a life-affirming world.  This self-knowledge can generate powerful insights into others and is a prerequisite to empathy.  Reflecting on both grace (unmerited privilege) and unjust relationships (disenfranchisement) can leverage the attitudinal changes necessary for a better world for all.  Mustering the courage to let go of unmerited privilege when it perpetuates unjust relationships, and change our behavior accordingly, even if it feels uncomfortable and scary, will align our lives at a deeper level of comfort and peace.  Knowledge will follow.  Knowledge will catch up to our passions.  Life-affirming knowledge is wisdom.  All other knowledge is unnecessary clutter, actually confounding the manifestation of wisdom.  Where a whole heart rules, all is well.  Living in won’s head can foster a perversely dangerous idealism, disconnected from the world of the living.  If this strikes you as in any weigh anti-intellectual, you may want to delve into my blog — I speak from experience.

May you find a weigh in life that lifts up both yourself and others.

 

POLITICAL CARTOON: CEO Jesus – Birthers

CEO Jesus Arises to the Occasion!

Jesus Cartoon: CEO Jesus - Re-Birthers Press Conference

CEO Jesus really rises to the occasion this week of Easter!  What could be tougher than answering the difficult and often inane questions put forth at a press conference?  In his first go around, Jesus’ public relations department really had a big gaffe by sending two women to witness the resurrection.  In Jesus’ day, women were not considered reliable or viable witnesses.  What was he thinking?  Of course, the modern-day CEO Jesus understands the complexities of oppression in Western civilization.  These days, proper paperwork and avoiding getting bogged down in innuendo are the armor and shield of modern management.  There’s no question that many modern folks doubt the actual physical resurrection of Jesus.  For me, that’s less the point than addressing truth in an upfront and Jesus like manner — actually living a life that witnesses to the profound truth that life is stronger than death.   In these modern times, with all of our science and technological sophistication, obfuscation of the truth is as old school as ever!  This week’s parody is on the birthers.  Who needs facts when simple doubt will do?  Why accept evidence when such realities don’t suit one’s biases and bigotries?  When Jesus appeared before Pilate, Pilate mocked the irrelevancy of truth, with his classic rhetorical question, “What is truth?”  In the end, Pilate just tested the political winds and gave the mob what they wanted.  Some things never change.

Interestingly, modern day evangelical Christians seem more interested in proper documentation through theological litmus tests and dogmas of belief in whether one should receive the proper credentials of being “born again” than the incarnate power of Jesus boldly witnessing to the reality that life is stronger than death, and good is stronger than evil.  Rather than exchanging résumés of belief, I would suggest that they will know we are Christians by our love, not our doctrine.  Unfortunately, for human control freaks, the way of love is way too wild and free.  By reducing deep spiritual truths to belief and dogmas, institutional religion is born, again, and competition for brand control become the preeminent reality.  Jesus rocks, quite literally on Easter, but I find that Christianity often gets in the way of following Jesus.  Wherever you are entombed in your life, come out!  Hmm…is that Jesus calling?