"pluribus" poems
Harken now to the fighter's call
From demigod warriors to the petitioners at the mall
We band together and rise when they divide and fall
E Pluribus, Unum: we rise above it all
Nov 9, 2016
Nov 9, 2016 at 7:38 PM UTC
Is mystery dependent on me thinking of mystery?
It is a safe bet.
For when what is central is knowledge, then I can only become aware of mystery if upon something new or unknown.
Thus, mystery is not knowledge, but the lack of it.
Mystery is ignorance.
Thus, my meditation is rather reflection on ignorance,
As if I'm trying to better describe ignorance, or find a way out of ignorance with only the experiential.
I think of mostly consciousness and the universe here, in terms of my and humanity's ignorance of them.
Not only am I limited by my own understanding but also the understanding of others, however much they are even more intelligent than me.
I see others working on problems that have proven to not solve the mystery, the mystery being ignorance.
The only thing that could solve it is omniscience.
Then it follows that what I'm really trying to solve is omniscience.
"Infinite cognition" as the Buddha put it.
Even if a person could have omniscience, it would be colored by how they can make sense of reality.
Knowledge would take the form of what is most familiar.
Thus, when wondering about a question as to what is pi, they may say about 3.14.
The answer conditioned on how people and the omniscient one would have the capacity to hear.
Maybe this seems more like intuition.
But omniscience would denote the person as a speaker, yet only allowable to speak as what was conducive for everyone's best.
This is how Baha'is look at Manifestations of God: only allowed to share a certain amount at a time.
Just as the Son said "I have many things to share with you, but you cannot hear them now".
Still their capacity would be limited to what they themselves were interested in.
For one who is marginalized and oppressed or even thronged by multitudes, often has no willingness to delve deeply into subject matter, it causing some to stray from a correct path.
Since fractal systems work strongest in more diverse settings, it would seem that the very thing that makes it strong also makes its capacity to hear weak.
Omniscience therefore, if given to only a few, has a limited range of effect.
But even this limited range would change the entire system.
As Baha'u'llah calls His followers "the leaven" and the Son calls His followers "the salt".
"Many are called but few are chosen" seems derogatory in a world where "ye are all the leaves of one tree".
World consciousness almost arose to love tonight, but the lover ensared it in his anger once again.
If I close my ears to them, will it go away?
If they close my ears to me, will I go away?
Strength in the diversity of parts.
Strength really meaning pain.
E Pluribus Unum.
Mar 8, 2021
Mar 8, 2021 at 1:30 AM UTC
It happened in a flash!
Down a winding mountain road.
A trio of vacationers,
Basking in snow-draped vistas
Pulled off for a photo or two.
Their tires quickly locked in icy snow
And after the whirl of spinning tires,
The undeniable truth sank in:
They were most sincerely stuck!
In moments, multiple door slams
Echoed across the valley,
And an ad hoc commission
Convened and began to shovel.
A half hour of elbow grease later
Amid vapor-clouded cries of:
“straighten the wheel,”
“slow on the gas” and
“all together, on three”
The car eased back on the pavement.
No one called "meeting adjourned"
But as quickly as formed,
That ad hoc gang of lesser angels
Dissolved into the greater band
Of good folks bonded together in life.
E pluribus unum!
Jan 29, 2022
Jan 29, 2022 at 1:22 PM UTC
you were born in Denver
during a white out blizzard
like all round babes,
you had no clue, what was in store for you
you couldn't have known...
you would be
the last nickel to ***** through
a five-cent coin phone box,
in El Paso, Texas
or that you would sleep
for a year in a piggy bank,
of a boy named Felipe, who would die
of white blood cancer, before
he could spend you
and who would have thought
you would be in the linty pocket
of a serial murderer named Ray, when
he was captured in Santa Fe, a sunny day
on the ancient square, stalking
his next victim
a jailer used you that very night
with a twin of yours he found in
another picked pocket, of a drunk drifter,
to buy a Hershey's bar, from a machine
that would have taken a dime as well
your face began to show the fingered
signs of age by the time the choppers found sky
above the Saigon Embassy, where you had spent
an aching April night in the Ambassador's pants
when you turned a half century, you were tossed
into a gallon jug, e pluribus unum, no more special
than others a third your vintage
I finally met you today, only because chance landed you on
the top of the heap, waiting to be saved from further folly
Aug 27, 2016
Aug 27, 2016 at 11:39 AM UTC
Constantly in pursuit,
Evil at it's root,
Others follow suit,
Because E Pluribus Unum
Blinded by the signs,
Polluted in their minds,
Stacked up in their binds
To gloat for what they've done.
The chase for evermore,
Terrified of being poor,
Striving for the highest score,
Without having any fun.
Consumed by absolute greed,
Green is the color they bleed,
It's all they want, crave, and need.
In their death, it's the smoking gun...
Sep 25, 2015
Sep 25, 2015 at 10:10 PM UTC
Will my body forgive me
For the market I hold in her temple
Sins for a denarius
A farthing for a night under her tapestries
When you could be watching stars
Stars shine the same whether you clutch a ticket or a match
They love to be the last thing burning out at night
I am not close to their light
Burning seems of little consequence to me
Look upon the stars
Find them more patient than I in stamina
I more soluble in my regrets
The sun begins pulling cloud tears back from the earth
Agels whisper the innocence of the world into the atmosphere
The stratosphere knows nothing of our regrets
She does not see fingers crossed behind our backs
Knowing nothing of pennies given for promises
Promises given for free
Plastic coins for a lover
Nothing in my pockets for me
Hold your secrets under my skin
Knowing you let the night carry you away
You can take it back
These are the dreams in the desert
In the sun, under the mountains
Those who journey on foot
Knowing that knocking on doors means being turned away
My desire to cling to you
Is the cold that pushes you away
You are the oranges in the snow
A cold citrus kiss
I know your real name
With no courage to spit it out
These hands are clenched
No room for promises here
Between your fingers and skin
You grip regret so tight
One truth that will not abandon you
Biting not the hand that feeds
Go hungry
When a morsel is a memory
Dreams a feast to you
Regret devours all but bones
Anger has chosen your words for today
She is your strong horse
You will not bare the weight of the reins
A bit does not taste much of metal
When there is blood on your hands
Your prayer today
You have hope tomorrow, to hope for tomorrow
Time is a feather, fool
You give her flight for the price of falling
These coins in my pockets are for you
To make my steps lighter
A copper face is nothing
When you have seen the writing on the walls
*e pluribus unum
they call me legion*
How many hands will you give me
How many dealt
To count my sins on my fingers
misertus est enim stulti
stultus est misericordia sicut vilis ut eius precibus
When the walls speak will you listen
Mar 23, 2019
Mar 23, 2019 at 4:00 PM UTC
Standing barefoot in the broiling sun
Sitting by the rivers edge
kneeling at the alter
Humming a tune at the precipice.
wondering aloud at the crossroads.
Thinking of the days gone by.
Never to return.
America what lies in store for you now.
The sun will surely rise.
But will you.Will you acclimate to the brutality to come.
Fitfully you will sleep and regret will haunt your dreams.
Will you know the cause of your demise, The wolf will stalk and grin.
Your fortitude will falter as strength becomes a commodity.
How far to the bottom,and then.
The fall is not painful but the sudden stop is brutal.
The wind will surely blow
Your thread-worn garments will flap and flutter in the wind
You see comfort has departed. Take care America.
Reckless Rome.
Nov 19, 2012
Nov 19, 2012 at 6:48 PM UTC
Hanna to me is the BEGINNING of an evolution,
She finds me the END(of her fervent seeking for long)
Many worlds (we knew) existed between us until then,
Willingly crunch to make a perfect ONE from the debris.
Oct 2, 2015
Oct 2, 2015 at 8:55 AM UTC
(alternately titled random axe of violence)
I calculated an average
of ~10.16.... deaths per year
of mass school shootings since Columbine,
a morbid benchmark where,
iGen / Gen Z 1995 - 2012 bore significant hit,
now students require armed guards to learn - veer
really within purportedly "safe places",
which statistics tracks a unilinear
trend, and justifiably causing
absolute zero reassurance
countering alarmist state of mind dust tear
ability to accept rationale
dismissing greater probability
prevails lightening will strike loved ones,
nonetheless share
ring understandable expressing
rightful salient concerns with school board
quotidian possibility son(s) and/or daughter(s) rare
lee remain mum at every opportunity,
how second amendment does not square
with democratic e pluribus unum firmament,
lieutenant management,
quintessential reverent tenets
pointing trigger finger of accountability
at lax gun purchasing rare
lee does emotional uproar demanding
immediate controls, limitations, restrictions,
et cetera on firearms scare
the bejesus from stalwart National Rifle Association,
whence spokesperson doth prepare
convincing rebuttal (lock, stock at barrel) overbear
ring lee outgun legitimate
parental concerns, now near
daily occurrence hardly cause a flinch glossed
inducing similar reactions as
sports home team defeated, sans mere
slightly raised eyebrows while headline news
when another tragedy gets tacked
unto the 122 students killed since Columbine
took innocent lives 19 plus years ago
which ** hum sacrifice of youth or teachers bare
lee induce ripple despite an increasing number
of spent bullets fallout inflicting
more than 208,000 vulnerable
impressionable psyches sorrows need a lifetime to air!
Apr 22, 2018
Apr 22, 2018 at 9:49 PM UTC
I confess
though thousands years have passed
since some barefoot soul called you
a god, I can't even recall the ennobled appellation
they gave you...Ra?
to those who carved on cool cave walls
your burning legacy was a glimpse of gold infinity
to me, a wearer of shoes and master of plastic tools,
you are but a spec in the night, e pluribus unum,
a paltry 90 million miles from my spinning rock
proudly proclaiming your **********
you sear skins and sins of your followers
who supplicate to your filtered rays
while blithely ignoring, you number our days
and will fizzle out like a sparkler, one finite July eve
who called you divine?
Aug 16, 2014
Aug 16, 2014 at 3:16 PM UTC
I know I'm one of those kids,
Never sick but always blows his nose kids,
Mad city never been good kids,
"All my gold is green kids,
Blue and red hues are all I've seen hold kids,
But not a Glock shot with 9 kids,
Always go to school kids,
Be good, don't ever play the fool kids,"
Old heads, never get through kids,
Huston has a problem kids,
But the man on the moon will be home soon kids,
Embrace the martian; Saint Pablo got to kids,
Nov 26, 2016
Nov 26, 2016 at 9:52 AM UTC
Far moost o' me
three score minus one year
tethered upon terra firmae where
planet Earth doth veer
(spins upon the global axis
(tilted 23.5 degrees from the plane
of its orbit around the sun),
terrestrial genesis (perhaps accompanied
for Pete's sake by Gabriel
blowing his horn) in all honesty unclear
boot more oven concern
points to thermonuclear
and/or subnuclear
war, particularly at forefront
of thine primate noggin
actively hypothesizing
theoretical armageddon,
when non plus ultra gravitates
with e pluribus unum necessitating
each individual to bend over
and kiss his/her rear
goodbye unless total merciless queer
hue loss atomic fallout immediately
incinerates e'en
the moost savvy profiteer,
which aforementioned prognostication
arose from overbear
ring hazy, hot and humid
dangerous heat spell near
lee approximating insufferable
temperature nearing triple digits
(along Eastern Seaboard
of United baked States
makes this human,
an immediate convert to climate control
(though he happened tubby already)
basking, glorifying, and luxuriating
within delightful 60º Fahrenheit mere
really expressing gratitude for such
creature comfort donning my
stretched out birthday suit,
(yet thee moost comfortable leisurewear
then thrift store "special bag
mountain of clothes
as mooch as Yukon sales,"
no matter mine ill mannered
mirrored reflection doth jeer
at such a sorry sight, and/or
laugh reading interlinear
monologue colloquy,
which message gleaned between lines,
and should this poem be red aloud,
thy ******** passion linkedin
with humming HVAC, ye would hear
courtesy hove cochlear
(hollow tube in the inner ear)
sensitive to deafening sounds...so beware!
Jun 30, 2018
Jun 30, 2018 at 4:02 PM UTC
I see the barrel at the temple
feel the nickel sized circle on the skin
hear the loud last report
after the trigger pulled
daily, this scene scrolls in the head
a secret, e pluribus unum, one
no other players read
in their scripts
I don't write theirs, only
mine, and they have their own
clandestine plans, their own
scenes at the edge of the
abyss
sometimes, I see them
fall, screaming, or silent
until they land among the other
bones
I don't know, I will never
see that place with my eyes
for I lack the courage to jump
or squeeze the trigger
no
I will find a way to sleep
and never wake up, let others wonder what lines
I read in my final hours hiding from the sun,
or why I chose pills and potions
instead of the gun
Sep 5, 2015
Sep 5, 2015 at 11:28 AM UTC
the leaders of tomorrow bravely take to the dais
justified their precious life,
liberty and pursuit of happiness -
stolen under their figurative nose)
asper an unparalleled heist
recouping quintessential basic human rights,
and will NOT yield an inch
(or any other minuscule amount),
if for no other reason
(and many more valid claims prevail)
such inalienable American birthrights
(codified decrees endowing freedoms -
tattered to shreds via frenzy of bullets)
guaranteeing harm inviolable unjustly out priced
sacrificed by lax second amendment spiced
within wanton murderous sprees wherein assassin
literally calls the shots (supplanting
assigned storied halls with din
of fire arms (acquired
from pennies on the dollar,
or bartered for a bottle of gin
within the underbelly (viz black market)
of society, where trigger happy jinn nee
as slaughter sans killing fields mount
with resignation vis a vis
tocollective shrugging shoulders prithee
and upend safe havens i.e. storied academic re:
deuce sing self preservation (UNFAIRLY)
to activist minded students tree
ting each day as a survivalist course, thus WE
as coined on legal tender (E Pluribus Unum)
MUST unite against love affair with pistols, no matter
one or more mere mortals
think Matthew Scott cray ZEE!
Apr 13, 2018
Apr 13, 2018 at 1:14 AM UTC
E. Pluribus Unum
“Out of many. One”
But if we are one in many
How come Uncle Sam is the only one with a gun?
Held to our heads, making us obey
Telling us lies
Telling us it’s going to be ok
As long as we listen to everything he has to say
“Come to America where everyone can stay”
“See the Statue of Liberty?”
“She says that it is okay”
“Unless you’re black, women, or gay”
“If you aren’t white or male there will be special rules for you to obey”
This is the secret code all Americans are forced to obey
We must stop living it
Stop enforcing it
We will not obey
E. Pluribus Unum
“Out of many. One”
We no longer listen to Uncle Sam
And we’re coming for his gun
Nov 30, 2015
Nov 30, 2015 at 12:35 PM UTC
Should I give free away this truth... That it be eaten by sparrow and fly alike?
Once the pyramid became a part of my inner vision, I soon realized through diligence that It leads to E Pluribus Unum, "from many, one".
And as I solve my own problems, (they are the same for family, nation, and the world)
I see the picture of the gradual unity of our planet's society, and beyond.
Dec 27, 2020
Dec 27, 2020 at 1:45 AM UTC
It's Poetry Month,
If poets wail in the woods,
Do they make a sound?
If what we write goes unread,
Why on earth do we persist?
It is madness, I insist,
No one can cure 'till we're dead.
Will we be silent, or discouraged? No!
Let our voices resonate with our truth,
Be it sweet as a ripe pomegranate,
Or sour as cheap wine left too long uncorked.
We sing as best we can in harmony,
Or screech like rusty nails caressing slate,
E pluribus unum - one family,
Embracing every country, every state.
Our voiced won't be silenced, nor our song,
For we were born to sing right notes and wrong.
Apr 4, 2022
Apr 4, 2022 at 11:44 PM UTC
(alternately titled random axe of violence)
I calculated an average
of ~10.16.... deaths per year
of mass school shootings since Columbine,
a morbid benchmark where,
iGen / Gen Z 1995 - 2012 bore significant hit,
now students require armed guards to learn - veer
really within purportedly "safe places",
which statistics tracks a unilinear
trend, and justifiably causing
absolute zero reassurance
countering alarmist state of mind dust tear
ability to accept rationale
dismissing greater probability
prevails lightening will strike loved ones,
nonetheless share
ring understandable expressing
rightful salient concerns with school board
quotidian possibility son(s) and/or daughter(s) rare
lee remain mum at every opportunity,
how second amendment does not square
with democratic e pluribus unum firmament,
lieutenant management,
quintessential reverent tenets
pointing trigger finger of accountability
at lax gun purchasing rare
lee does emotional uproar demanding
immediate controls, limitations, restrictions,
et cetera on firearms scare
the bejesus from stalwart National Rifle Association,
whence spokesperson doth prepare
convincing rebuttal (lock, stock at barrel) overbear
ring lee outgun legitimate
parental concerns, now near
daily occurrence hardly cause a flinch glossed
inducing similar reactions as
sports home team defeated, sans mere
slightly raised eyebrows while headline news
when another tragedy gets tacked
unto the 122 students killed since Columbine
took the lives of innocent lives 19 plus years ago
which ** hum sacrifice of youth or teachers bare
lee induce ripple despite an increasing number
of spent bullets fallout inflicting
more than 208,000 vulnerable
impressionable psyches sorrows need a lifetime to air!
Apr 22, 2018
Apr 22, 2018 at 9:21 PM UTC
seems like ole man winter
aint finished doing business
whereat get dem self up
in fine fetters and cuss
madly jabbing, gesticulating,
and damning e pluribus
conveniently, deliberately,
and selectively forgetting about unum
until...cupboards bare wren,
emergency food stash
mice eaten, and refrigerator empty
and there you stand with a growling tum
hmm...perhaps hastening to the wine cellar
scrambling for a jug of ***
which ample downing might be
a panacea to hibernate,
and deeply slum
burr until dawg days of summer,
when fruit trees bursting,
and being alive feels plum
ripe with nary a worry in the world,
oh...mebbe best to telephone mum
(real name Chrys Anthem),
and share cornucopia
as life for thee goes hum
ming along swimmingly
and haint nuttin tuff heal glum
about, now take another sip
and breathe in from
smorgasbord mother nature didst spread
vibrant flora and fauna
sights and sounds rhythmically,
poetically, and hypnotically drum,
where the prevailing mood
finds one markedly chum
me scales fall from ones's eyes,
a former ***
er, and skool of hard knocks alum,
now just kick back
and become seduced
while listening
to the chick hens roost
scampering, grunting,
and buzzing capers moost
pleasant since renaissance
of spring loosed.
Mar 20, 2018
Mar 20, 2018 at 7:19 PM UTC
# The Hostess
Crowned in Afro-tribal headdress,
On her chest a Slavic tunic;
Appearing as a prophetess
Or a schizophrenic ******
On her wrists ring Irish bangles—
Wrapped round her waist a bright sarong;
On her breast a pendant dangles
Like some Oriental gong.
Multi-kulti represented
As a woman, weirdly dressed.
Every ethnic group is feted
On arrival to the West.
The Dinner
Everybody bring your dish!
The ethnic potluck has begun.
Afterwards your guts will wish
Your culture had remained as one.
Foods collide and almost mingle
In the cultural melting ***
Yet it’s hard to find a single
Way to describe this mixed-up lot.
Curry mingles with Kielbasa
Chinese dumplings, Jello, slaw
Deviled eggs, the odd samosa
Beans and rice, cheap sushi raw.
Soul food, Kimchi, Spanish rice,
Pad-Thai, grits, potato salad;
Gastronomic paradise?
Or a nauseating ballad . . .
Out of many, not quite one—
You bravely burp. It’s quite diverse . . .
But as your stomach comes undone
Digestion goes from sad to worse.
E pluribus to Alka-Seltze®
Groaning in your bed at three:
Let it fizz and hope it helps, sir
Lest you doubt diversity…
I’m Diversity. I am strength!
Sings the undigested food.
Perhaps we all shall know, at length
If global change was for the good.
Apr 29, 2023
Apr 29, 2023 at 3:52 PM UTC
We humans are one,
In endless varieties,
Rejoice in that fact.
Jan 5, 2019
Jan 5, 2019 at 2:09 AM UTC