PHILOSOPHY / POLITICS / POEMS

Below is a list of poems and other poli-sophical ramblings.

 

A “Poli-sophical” Rant

. . . . . these are difficult times and sometimes if we are not careful we get what we want.  Figuring out how to make what we get be what we want is sometimes necessary.

The tyranny of the massesGiven these extraordinary economic times it is sometimes difficult to step outside of ourselves and look at the big picture.  After all, when things get tough it is more than natural to focus inward in self interest.  What this accomplishes is to narrow our view to such an extent that we can no longer benefit from the many advantages of having a bigger view of what is going on.

For the rest of this story please click on the “Read Me” button below–and enjoy!

 

 

 

Pick Your Poison

. . . . . we all pick our own poison, so choose well.

Little-Si-112611-75

Knowing darkness—

—knowing light.

When we cannot see the forest for the trees, seeing the light becomes important.

Sometimes we merely have to open our eyes.

Sometimes closing them is the answer.

Seeing the light is sometimes not enough.

 

 

For the rest of this story please click on the “Read Me” button below–and enjoy!

 

 

 

The Puzzler

 . . . . . sometimes sorting out the pieces is complicated.

It was no ordinary puzzle.

It came in a sealed box just like any other puzzle.

Except there was no picture on the cover.

“10,000 pieces!”—the box said.

“If you put together no other puzzle in your whole life— —let it be this one!”—the box said.

The Puzzler was intrigued.

Seduced.

Possibly even a bit manipulated.

To Read more of this poem, please click on the “Read Me” button below–and enjoy!

 

 

 

Make the Most of Life–or not!

. . . . . below is the entire poem.  Click on the read me access the PDF.

fogtree2-583x1024Yesterday,

Actually after the yesterdays

Hiding so many other yesterdays,

We inexplicably step out of the void.

We experience joy, we experience sadness,

We experience love, we experience anger,

We experience courage, we experience fear,.

We experience doubt, we experience faith,

We experience denial, we experience belief,

We experience epiphanies, we experience hope,

……..or not!

Experience is at the heart of it all.

Some among us are not even that lucky.

By Charles Buell

 

 

 

I Never Was

. . . . . below is the entire poem.  Click on the read me access the PDF.

Here I am.

Plum blossomsAnything I know

about the past,

is either based on hearsay

or memory.

Given the excruciating inadequacy of memory,

it is hard to conclude that anything remembered actually happened

or happened exactly as remembered.

Given the disappointing inadequacy of hearsay,

knowing that people will both lie and tell you the truth,

it is hard to conclude

that what we have heard about ourselves

is entirely accurate

or happened the way told.

Concluding that the past does not exist

is not hard to imagine.

Imagining that the past never existed,

while more difficult,

is for all intents and purposes equally true.

We are faced

with the reality of the now.

Concluding that the future does not exist

plum blossomsis not hard to imagine.

Imaging that the future will never exist,

while more difficult,

is for all intents and purposes equally true.

In time,

when we are somewhere other than where we are now,

this present time will also cease to exist,

and our memory of it,

will alter its truth as well.

Being faced with

“now”

we serve ourselves best

if we

be here now.

While I never was,

I always am.

By Charles Buell

 

 

 

The Red Boat

. . . . below is the entire poem.  Click on the read me access the PDF.

There is a Red Boat that sees the White Mountain.The Red Boat

There is a White Mountain that sees the Red Boat.

There is a Small Child with a Lunch Box that sees the Red Boat that sees the White Mountain.

There is a White Mountain that sees the Red Boat that sees the Small Child with the Lunch Box.

There is a Blue Sky that sees the White Mountain that sees the Red Boat that sees the Small Child with the Lunch Box.

There is a Small Child with a Lunch Box that sees them all—-and the things in between—-even the things in the Lunch Box.

By Charles Buell

A Poem for Molly and Rohan and Michael

 

 

 

The Hoarder

. . . . below is the entire poem.  Click on the read me access the PDF.

hoardertree1 Life is not merely puzzling.

It is beyond puzzling.

It is certainly more than a puzzle.

One can only wish it was just a puzzle.

Life is more like a scroll,
yet more than a scroll.

Like an endless scroll,
with the “now” of our lives,
laid out flat between the rolls.

The scrolls of our lives,
are entangled with—
—-complicated by—
—and supported from,
the scrolls of others in our lives

Trapped,
sometimes in the rolls,
we wither,
cryptic pieces spilling out on the other side,
waiting to be sorted.

Our past, rolls-up behind us,
whether the pieces fit or not.

hoardertree2Life scrolls,

as a river flows,
when the pieces fit a lot.

The rolled up pieces of our past,
like cast away carpet,
are needed less than we fear.

So give away the pieces that you can,
making room for more.

Any piece that we withhold,
and keep as if our own,
might be the one,
for which someone longs.

We can never know,
how pieces given away,
can be useful to the puzzle,
of someone else.

Can you imagine if,
for want of just one piece,
a person didn’t win,
the Nobel Prize for puzzles?

Or for Medicine?

Seems like such a heavy price.

What if you take that one piece—
—with you when you go?

Will you have enough time—
—to give them all away?

By Charles Buell

 

Mother Nature is a Hottie!

Mother Natures Earrings

In Summer, Mother Nature can be as hot as a brothel’s attic.

In Winter, as cold as the end of Jack in The Shining.
When she is out and about in the violent cold of winter.
When the hoarfrost nips our noses and toeses.
We are seduced by her crystal earring’s shining.
And warmed all over again.
Like hot chocolate.
Amongst the shattered roses.

 

By Charles Buell

 

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