Summer Solstice Poem: A Day of Longing No More

The longest day of the year
And nothing too due
He was well
Grounded
Sent to his roam
Bye know won
On the level
Of ants
Who never say “uncle”
With blades broken
Beaten by the sun
Sow green
With envy 93 million miles away
As feeled of dreams
Un-till
The king dumb
Of man
Clamoring agin
Fore mow mow mow
Wanting soully
Ever more

On this summer solstice day I took a leisurely jaunt on my bike down to the Toledo Art Museum lawn. Next to a stream of consciousness, I wrote this poem.  This poem touches on a common theme of mine: absconding from the business and battles of everyday life.  May your daze get shorter from now on.

Anti-Trump, Anti-Hillary FREE POSTER: Newsflash — Stockholm Syndrome Renamed Washington Syndrome, Voters Held Hostage

This free Anti-Trump, Anti-Hillary poster announces the sad, traumatic news: NEWSFLASH — Stockholm Syndrome Renamed Washington Syndrome.  Donald Trump and Hillary Clinton are the presidential candidates with the highest negative ratings in modern U.S. history.  Voters are held hostage in an election where a record low proportion of the electorate are excited, or even mostly content, with the coughed-up candidates of our dysfunctional, so-called two party political system.  The deeply compromised rationalizations of voters’ “have-to-vote-against” him/her is worthy of re-naming Stockholm Syndrome as Washington Syndrome.  If you feel like a voter held hostage, you probably have Stockholm Syndrome.  If you don’t feel like a voter held hostage, you may have Stockholm Syndrome.  WARNING: Washington Syndrome may have side effects of continued global militarization, economic colonialism, and endemic human rights violations.

What if American leftists went GREEN with envy FOR a truly progressive presidential candidate?  By the way, that would be Jill Stein, Green Party presidential candidate, and her amazingly progressive campaign platform.

Anti-Trump, Anti-Hillary Free POSTER: Newsflash -- Stockholm Syndrome Renamed Washington Syndrome, Voters Held Hostage

Stockholm syndrome is defined by Wikipedia as:

Stockholm syndrome, or capture-bonding, is a psychological phenomenon described in 1973 in which hostages express empathy and sympathy and have positive feelings toward their captors, sometimes to the point of defending and identifying with the captors. These feelings are generally considered irrational in light of the danger or risk endured by the victims, who essentially mistake a lack of abuse from their captors for an act of kindness. The FBI’s Hostage Barricade Database System shows that roughly eight percent of victims show evidence of Stockholm syndrome.

Stockholm syndrome can be seen as a form of traumatic bonding, which does not necessarily require a hostage scenario, but which describes “strong emotional ties that develop between two persons where one person intermittently harasses, beats, threatens, abuses, or intimidates the other.” One commonly used hypothesis to explain the effect of Stockholm syndrome is based on Freudian theory. It suggests that the bonding is the individual’s response to trauma in becoming a victim. Identifying with the aggressor is one way that the ego defends itself. When a victim believes the same values as the aggressor, they cease to be perceived as a threat.

If your democracy looks anything like Stockholm Syndrome, then it’s time for a political revolution.

Feel free to browse Top Pun’s designs on democracy, political revolution, and green politics.

POEM: That Wholly Lessen

Kneeling before
Mother
Earth
Shattering
Knews
Buy sum mirror mortals
That scant except abundance
Farced too
Under stand
That wholly lessen
Taut
As awe for one
And won for all
And what too due
To be apprehended
Those borne too big for their breaches
Both yearning their keep
And wanting to cry like a baby
As partially dread
King Solomon’s wisdom
Discerning a real mom
From a ‘mother’ in name only
In every crook and nanny
Of awe that might be
Haunted by possessions
Those who cull out
For halve of everything
As if
Like some indivisible man
In a crowd
Stealing a weigh
Amidst a pound of flash
As a parent
As won
Divided buy too
Is not twice one peace
However disposed
Won is to give
Forbear
Meaning less labor
For priceless heir
And each arrival
Comes a bout
In his stork visit
That universal root
Digs ever deeper
Beyond belief
Yet sum people
Proffer a Roamin’ umpire
A tempting
A scuff-law-less Caesarean delivery
To buy pass
The belly of the best
Dilatorily a void
Mete cleave her
Where even moderation can be excessive
Only too grasp
After brooding over
In a so-so pregnant pause
And sow ill-conceived
Being a touch bankrupt
Morally in half-way hows
That irresistible fix
Working for you
And know won ails
Halve the weigh homme
Leaping twice across the chasm
Returning
To Mother
Earth
Won way or the other
Making a hole world
Of deference

Here is yet another poem about the ongoing crisis of Mother Earth’s destruction.  To portray the half-ass response by so-called developed nations and industrial powers that be, I employ the metaphors of King Solomon’s infamous wisdom in dealing with dispute over motherhood and that of crossing a chasm in two leaps.  To add another metaphor regarding our relationship with Mother Earth, we want to have our cake and eat it too!  In the case of the King Solomon judgment, two mothers living in the same household claimed a baby as their own.  After one of the mothers accidentally smothered her own child while they were sleeping in her bed (by the way, an ancient public health problem that persists today), she claimed the other mother’s baby was her own.  Without enough evidence to make a reasonable determination, King Solomon wisely and shrewdly ordered the baby cut in half, so each mother could have their “fair” share, to determine their reaction.  The true mother insisted the baby be given to the false mother to spare the baby’s life.  The false and jealous mother said go to it.  Of course, this revealed the true mother to which King Solomon ordered the whole baby as hers.  Our greed and jealous protection of our own unjust interests would rather halve the world we live in than deal with a whole new world.  Globalize THIS - ENVIRONMENTAL RESPONSIBILITY [earth graphic] POLITICAL BUTTONAs greed and envy continue unabated, we naively and vainly assume that things will “naturally” work themselves out.  As if the day after we can reassemble two halves of a baby and have a whole baby.  This is akin to jumping a chasm in two leaps.  It don’t work that way!  Our fundamental disrespect for motherhood is a parent to anyone who possesses the wisdom to differentiate between motherhood and smother-hood.  Of course, in the real world, there is no second baby to even attempt to appropriate.  And the chasm is too wide for even a long series of half-ass measures.  I’ll take a flying leap here: we either return to mothering Mother Earth or we will return to Mother Earth, as a specious not suited to evolve any further.

POEM: More of the Sane

Going through life
Various docks said
You are just
Going through a phrase
And heeling
Wood be
Yores soon
Enough
Finally cured
Of awe
That is
Green
With envy
Of what might
Passably be
More of the sane

This poem is about the insanity of sanity.  This has less to do with the faults of the status quo — though they are myriad — than it does coming alive, infectiously alive, in a living world.  Security, in conventional wisdom, is sought through well-worn, predictable means.  Such security is based on a knowledge of order present in the world.  This is simply the triangulation of scientific facts, providing a coherent framework from which to navigate our lives. Yeah, go science!  Well, order is knot the whole of life.  Disorder is necessary for possibility, any veering from a determined course.  Order as the hole of life negates freedom, creation, and certainly most of the fun.  Of course, the point is not to create disorder, an abundance of that already exists, the point is to bring to life — that is, create — new order, more conducive and congruent with the higher and deeper orders present in creation.  This perpetual creation and recycling is sharing in the experience of what it’s like to be God, perhaps God’s greatest gift.  We are meant to play with creation, as God’s children, not be some play set for God or other humans to manipulate to their own — and our — constipated end.  Our creation is not a disorder that needs to be cured, it need only respect life by infectiously creating more life.  Such disorder is not a threat to the well-ordered physical world.  However, such disorder is a metaphysical dis-ease with existence being reduced and lived (sic) out in simply a mechanical weigh.  In truth, such disorder is a higher order that cannot be reduced to mere mechanics, lifting up the hood and fixing it.  Such disorder is the infectious need to sail life’s oceans.  Of course, this is vastly aided by abundant knowledge of shipbuilding, navigation, etc.  Even greater though, it requires a love of discovery, a love of the feel of the ocean’s wind and spray in your face, and the courage to risk the vagaries of the wild, the powerful, and the unknown.  While boldly and infectiously sailing life’s oceans may strike many as much less secure than, say, building ships for others, I strongly suspect that one of God’s deepest desires for us is to freely be the captains of our own lives.  However exquisitely we may craft tools for others, God does not desire that we simply be tools for others — that would deny God’s exquisite craftsmanship.  God is a crafty one, peering behind the veil of indeterminacy, which many consider a disorder itself.  This thorniness behind creation results in much anguish and pain, the inescapable fareness of a free life.  The thorny crown atop God’s craftiness is unparalleled, except perhaps among humans, made in God’s image, where an irrepressible willingness to pain the prize is billed in.  May your inborn desire to create be guided by an abiding respect for life and it’s infectious nature seeking know cure.

POEM: More Than, a Nester — Owed to Seán Nestor, in honor of his 29th birthday

More Than, a Nester
Owed to Seán Nestor
in honor of his 29th birthday

In the beginning
There was a good egg
In compassed
By a paltry brood
A restless nativity
And ageless questions
Of what thirst
And what last
Ordinally his number
Enigmatically leading and following
Both a head of the pack
And singing his song inquire
Weather alone
Or getting it all together
From elementary schooling
To places high
And lo
Receiving the third degree
And more than a hunch
That there has to be
More to IT than this
To each day beat a different conundrum
To get with the program
AND run
Taking a ballot from behind
And still quixotically facing
The con jury of the democratic machine
Putting on a show
Exposing posterity for all
A worthy forerunner
For when hell frees us
And that blue moon
At once kicks off
Such a buff juncture
Of renewed politics
And transparent patronage
Of native sun
Seán on, dazzling brother!
As we cast our ballads for you
Thinking outside the box
Oar these daze, IT is something else
Perhaps a bout
Not mirrorly pick up sticks
To be a big hit
Rather solemn assemblies
And parties making US green
With envy
Only of what is done together
One for awe
And awe for won
And in earnest
We are paid
Surpassing fine feathered friends
Roosts no longer our rulers
Measured by our passions
Sized up by our compassion
Know longer having
Only to trust
As one under 30
Soon enough
Getting over one self
Whys beyond your ears
A fly guy
Making home wherever
You are
More than, a nester

One of my many life-long dreams is for everyone on the planet to have a poem written for them.  This furthers that dream.  THANKS, Seán!  Happy birthday!!   “May you live all the days of your life” — Will Rogers

You can download this poem here: Sean Nestor Poem

POEM: Lust Potential

Lust Potential

He looked about him
And saw
Their cups were filled
Even overflowing
And still
He mourned
The size of their cups

Years ago, I heard a description of heaven as a place where no matter the size of our cups all that we would know is that our cups are full.  I thought that this was a brilliant and beautiful image of humans resolving their relentless need to be more than who they are now.  This heavenly description illuminated some brilliant facets of human reality: that regardless of our capabilities we can be fulfilled, and that we need not compare our capabilities to others.  Of course, while this is a heavenly scenario, an illuminating ideal, us earthbound folks must grapple with envy, jealousy, and the unquenchable inclination to be more than we are now.  I believe that the first two can be redeemed; the latter I suspect is behind any impetus to even be redeemed!

Envy is the emotion that we feel when we want something that another possesses.  Typically, this is viewed with a negative connotation, a precursor to destructive behavior and relations. Envy lives within a worldview of scarcity, closed-sum thinking, and the fearful consequence which may ensue.  However, it can be viewed as inspirational, a precursor to creative behavior and relations.  Such inspiration can be made possible by living into abundance, where even loss or lack is parlayed into some positive gain, creating room for growth.  Jealousy is the emotion we have when we fear that we may be replaced in the affection of another.  Jealousy is also typically viewed with a negative connotation, living out of a place of insecurity, focusing on what we may lack and what another may want.  Jealousy is simply pre-mourning a potential loss.  And while mourning is a critical human developmental process, attempting to do the work of mourning before an actual loss has several great dangers.  First, the loss may never occur and we end up training for an event that is only in our head — this is needless worry.  Worse yet, such needless worry may actually facilitate our fears coming true, become a self-fulfilling prophecy — or perhaps more aptly, a self-unfulfilling prophecy!  Next, dealing with an imagined loss may have little bearing on what it takes to deal with an actual loss that does occur.  Like envy, jealousy is rooted in fear.  Fear holds us back from deeper and larger realities.  Nonetheless, even fear offers the pregnant possibility revealed in a stark contrast between itself and love.  Redemption is always looming!   Weave only got to hang in there!!  Both envy and jealousy can be wielded as an effective diagnostic tool to identify our fears, thus opening the possibility of testing these fears against the standards of love.  Love manifests itself in many ways.  Love can be the enjoyment and passion aroused by the preferred particularities of our life.  Love can be the filial or brotherly affection we experience with one another.  Love can be the intimate and erotic pleasures of a lover and best friend.  Love can be the unconditional love of God-like proportions, ever wooing us to be better, even more than we are now.  Love can be experiencing unconditional love so that we need not worry about what we have or don’t have, or who we are or aren’t.  Mysteriously and paradoxically, this latter unconditional acceptance seems to be the firmest foundation for change.

I wrote this poem partly because I have a personality where I see everything against a backdrop of perfection, which can drive me to heights of positive aspirations, or reduce me to a mole mourning mountains of loss potential.   I see the aspect of needing to be more than we are as an inescapable facet of being human.  Fortunately, it is not the only facet.  There is the rest.  I can experience awe that life has to offer without adding or subtracting anything.  And by not comparing myself to other, I become incomparable.