Sen. Robert WALDO Portman, Where Are You?!

Senator Robert WALDO PortmanSen. Robert WALDO Portman, where are you?!
All about
Red and white stripes
And no blue to be seen
In what
Might better
Be a black and white world
Yet no wear
To be found
In this tattered democracy
And flagging civility
On recessSenator Robert WALDO Portman in Prison Stripes
Out of town
Out to lunch
With a staff infection
Knot culpable of answering
To the cell
With the unapproved ID
And phase to phase metings
Shirking responsibly
Covering his hide
Afraid to show his face
With so much lie-ability

 

This poem was inspired by our weekly Trump Tuesdays protest outside of Sen. Rob Portman’s Toledo office.  While on recess, he or his staff were nowhere to be found. They did not answer the phone, and when we found out that his staff were in the office, they claimed to be out to lunch — perhaps a truer statement has never been issued from that office!  We will keep showing up until democracy breaks out in Toledo and Ohio and the United States of America.

 

POEM: Attorney General Edwin Meese III

I know of a man I never met
A foe of mine, I can only bet
A very close impersonal friend
To my unknown needs he’s supposed to tend
To rehabilitate me from what to what
Maybe he’s a pure-bred and I’m only a mutt
We make quite a pair
‘cept it’s me in the pound
Yet he’s always around
A thousand miles away
Yet I can hear his voice
“If charged you are guilty”
“If hungry it’s your choice”

I wrote this poem in 1987 while imprisoned for my epic failure to register for the military draft.  Below is a copy of the actual handwritten poem.  I had the original taped on my office wall near my desk for years.

Draft registration was reinstated by President Jimmy Carter as a response to the Russians invading Afghanistan.  Seems to me that invading Afghanistan would have been punishment enough.  We had the opportunity to learn such as lesson later — or not.  President Ronald Reagan, after breaking a campaign promise to abolish draft registration, continued it.  I was in the first batch of young men subject to this new law in 1980.  I spent the entire decade sparring with the world’s greatest military superpower, with a couple of years of probation and community service ending in 1989 — like I need the federal government to sentence me to community service!  Out of the millions of young men in violation of this Military Selective Service Act, less than a dozen were convicted of such flagrancy; all were public in their opposition.  Seems pretty pathetic for a so-called superpower.  I didn’t learn my lessen.

I feel no need for vindication, but I do feel like I have now lived through a full cycle of history, and history is on my side, if you believe in sides, that is.  While assuring my incarceration to make sure that I wasn’t around to not defend our homeland, the U.S. was training and equipping their version of freedom fighters, the likes of Osama bin Laden and the lesser known Frank N. Stein.

This poem is about President Ronald Reagan’s Attorney General, Edwin Meese III.  Though there was a lot of competition, Ed Meese was only clearly beat out as the most pathetic administration crony by James Watt, Secretary of the Department of Interior, which Mr. Watt, in his signature suicidal hatred of government, wanted to abolish; though it’s still not entirely clear whether it was the department or the environment he wanted to destroy.  Ed Meese was infamous for the two sayings recounted in the last two lines of my poem.  In an astounding disavowal of the U.S. Constitution, Mr. Meese, claimed that most suspects can be rightly assumed to be guilty.  Well, it’s not like he was the overseer of federal and constitutional law — sheesh!  The other statement, out of the jurisdiction of even his ignorance, was that if people are  hungry in America, it’s their choice.  When I heard this, I could have swore that his little round belly shook when he laughed like a bowl full of jelly.  Well, OK, it wasn’t his belly full of jelly.

I’ve made my choice, and 28 years later I’m still hungry for justice…

Attorney General Ed Meese III POEM

POEM: Hope Inflamed

Hope Inflamed

Hope inflamed
That which cannot be
Put out
Will consume every individual
Testing their mettle
Forging in feeleds
Just discovered
From a crucible witch lies unknown
Alloys forever
Stronger than any metal
Purely a loan
No matter
How precious
Our faith
In one
Another
Together
With standing
The fiercest heat
Or the harshest in difference

This poem about hope rests on my trust and faith that together humans will rise to any problem that we can experience in this world.  I like the Amelia Earhart quote, “Courage is the price that life exacts for granting peace.”  I think that courage, while sometimes rare, is contagious.  I think that once one truly experiences peace and freedom, there is little going back.  I cite the Arab Spring as an example of a quantum leap forward that may be resisted but cannot be defeated.  Human consciousness or awareness is the nexus and seed of all good that springs forth from humankind.  Ignorance is the dark side and enemy of such enlightenment.  Ignorance and denial are powerful forces in human life, but, I believe, that they are less powerful than human mindfulness and the human spirit unleashed.  I see the human spirit as rooted and emanating from a place that is outside, transcendent of worldly power structures.  Further, an enlightened soul does not retreat into some other-worldly place, but engages the powers that be in this world, modeling better ways, those rooted in the deepest realities of human experience and being.  I am impressed by the sheer existential choice of Buddha to remain in the world to help others rather than blow out into nirvana.  This speaks to a state of higher consciousness, transcending self.  Similarly, Jesus did not shy away or retreat from the powers that be.  Jesus put all of his skin in the game, to the point of death, being crucified as an enemy of the Roman state.  Jesus modeled a reality of Pax Christi versus Pax Romana, the difference between shalom and détente, a higher expectation/hope for the state of human existence on this earth.  As Gandhi proclaimed, “Peace is possible” — a revolutionary statement in a world where conventional wisdom is that détente is the highest possible state; or perhaps some dystopia of trying to kill all of your enemies, giving rise to more enemies, resulting in endless war with some perverse patriotism demonizing one another.  I will cast my lot with one another together with standing the fiercest heat or the harshest difference.  What say you?

POEM: Surfing The Heat Wave

Surfing The Heat Wave

While surfing the heat wave
I peer into my horror scope
Is life a beach?
What is there to sea?
The age of Aquarius in retrograde
Mercury rising
Is it all a mirage?
Whew, is this global warming
Or am I really this hot?!
The err conditioning on the fritz
Nature conspiring with scientists
Channeling the whether
Those men in white coats
Will get me carried away
What do we need?
For everybody to “NO”
You don’t throw stones in greenhouses
Just by entering our atmosphere
You’d get all burned up too
It’s only meteor logical
Yet they persist
Whining and dying
Crying out, “The sky is not falling”
End this “Oh zone” thing
Well, I’ve taken my last chill pill
Popped in my mouth
Too many times
Their clenched fists
Counting their green
To save them
Wile the rest of us
Patronized
“Don’t sweat the small stuff, sunny”
Well, I’m not buying it!
And all I get
Is this evil gaze thing
At this point I’d settle
For icy stares
And climb it
Skeptics
You can bank on it
Until you lose your balance
And fine yourself
With polar caps
In your ass
Having iced them
Wading for
A rising tide
To raze your shit

This one is for all of you out there withstanding the latest heat wave, and, of course, for those climate skeptics who occasionally lose their cool too.

POEM: Autobiography Excerpt

The authorities’ lack of investigatory skills
Were more than made up
By his incriminating honesty

POEM: Not Unlike Hope

Here is a poem about hope, sometimes on the run, sometimes on the lam.  Hope is never lost, and hope often lurks in sometimes unrespectable places. This poem has plenty of puns, hidden jewels, drama, chase scenes, and victorious poetry.  Enjoy!

Not Unlike Hope

Take heart
Breaking news
Hope is believed to be
Residing in an undisclosed location
The authorities have undertaken
To apprehend hope
Dead if need be
Vowing to devote all needed resources
To the hunt
For citizens
Good
Neighbors
Turning in
Suspicious
Character
Turning out
En masse
Lady Justice
Courting
Blindly
Dated
Expects her clues so
Much like a pink panther
Only rarer
Insulated by specious arguments
A trade mark
To protect and serve
Up
The last
Ne’er do well
Un-till
Hope rears
Her ugly head
Once
More
Only aft her
Out laud
In the vicinity of
Lincoln and MLK Way
Where the scufflawless meet
The police force
O Captain! My Captain!
Flailing too
Resolve
Issue
Press
Release
Dashing
Up the poetry
As we cooly add verse
Shelling out what is ode
And the sonnet rises
Not unlike hope

POEM: My Heart Breaks Daily

Life is messy.  Compassion is messy.  Acting in the world in a way that is congruent with one’s broken and breaking heart is a challenge.  A challenge to the actor, and a challenge to those in the world witnessing and trying to make sense of one’s acts.  Here is a short poem about such heartbreaking action:

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

Kent State Massacre POEM

Today is the 42nd anniversary of the Kent State Massacre, where four students were killed and nine students were injured when National Guard troops opened fire on anti-war demonstrators.  Below is a picture of Arlington Midwest at Kent State, May 4, 2006.  Arlington Midwest is a display of the Northwest Ohio Peace Coalition which organizes traveling displays of tombstones representing the human cost of the war in Iraq and Afghanistan.  The display includes a simulated tombstone with name, rank, age and state of origin for each fallen U.S. soldier.

Kent State 1

Below is a  poem reflecting on the Kent State Massacre, by Terry Lodge, a member of the Northwest Ohio Peace Coalition, activist lawyer, Toledo’s People’s Attorney, and usual suspect:

Looking down from the black marble memorial
Grave reminder
Of a dark chapter
A nonfiction nightmare
Played out in an Ohio theater of war
I’m halfway between Blanket Hill and the valley of death of May 4, 1970
An observation post above a field of green
Today dressed up as thousands of war crimes.

It is May
And the semi-shade of the black oak branches
And their celadon new leaves
Wreath the distant, orderly rows
Of white spring petals
Fallen from the Tree of Life.

Tears water this chiaroscuro of whitewash, nestled
In the shadows where crimes against humanity are plotted.
From a distance, it’s a palette worthy of Manet,
Choreographed by Rumsfeld.

These petals will produce no fruit
Nor beauty or poetry
Their leaves are pages of the guest registers
Of three thousand funeral homes.

Silently we listen
For some hopeful spring noise
That their blood might have nurtured,
Answered by silence.

Top Pun’s Martin Luther King Jr. Day Poem 2012

I have written another pun-filled epic poem; This time in honor Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and MLK day.  I dedicate this poem to the legacy and work of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and all of those who have been inspired by the American civil rights movement in their work for justice and peace.  This MLK poem is about seven pages long and can be viewed at: Owed to Martin Luther King, Jr. Day Poem, or you can download the poem as a PDF file for easy viewing, printing or sharing at: Owed to Martin Luther King, Jr. Day Poem

Here is the beginning of the poem if you need a teaser…

Owed to Martin Luther King, Jr.
by Top Pun

Rekindle the story
Of Martin Luther
King, Jr.
An unequalled story of two halves
Those who halve
And those who halve not
As far apart as North is from South
A Protest-ant leading a Reformation
To not have a preyer
What kind
Of moral fiber
In a sea of White
To pick
A fight
Bringing
Not even
A knife
To a gunfight
At the OKKK corral
Taking a beating
All that they can give
To the man
A hymn
Of racial harmony

View entire poem: Owed to Martin Luther King, Jr. Day

Happy Dr. Martin Luther, King, Jr. Day 2012.  Celebrate Dr. Martin Luther King Junior Day every day in 2012!

PUNNY Epic Poem: Christmas on Wall Street – Occupying Humanity

In honor of my 50th birthday, I have decided to devote more time to writing.  I hope to concentrate on pun-filled political satire, including epic poems.  To get you started, here is my first major epic poem, in honor of Occupy Wall Street protesters and Jesus, both known for putting some skin in the game.  The title of this epic poem, not surprisingly, is Christmas on Wall Street.  Please be warned, this poem is very punny and very epic, meaning long and sweeping (mostly Wall Street Bull): Christmas on Wall Street – Occupying Humanity. Enjoy at Christmas and beyond!

Browse Occupy Wall Street designs.