```Pirate Bay the Haiku```
pirates fierce and mean
drowning fish, sea to sea
parrots on their butt
```Polly Wants A Cracker```
bloodthirst & brutal
Quartermaster Gone Wild
dirty wings on deck
```Sea World Adventure```
ship crew goes on strike
sailing the Caribbean
wooden leg splashing
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A
Deep in the earth, a crypt of rock
slumber guarded by casket locked
Lips grope silence ‘ever more
rasping thought, remembers whispered lore
Outstretched palms the roots do clench
tranquility stilled by festered stench
And eyes, sleep caked, are propped ajar
ignites no life, but collapsed star
Burned blades sigh, Winds’ dying gasp
bones brittle snap within her clasp
A lonesome howl the moon does draw
vigil broken, it twists its maw
Upon an arena of endless stone
the granite gates they’ve passed alone
And entered a world of burning eyes
eluded the judge of smoldering cries
A faultless gait, no stumbled draw
a reaping brought by scythe and claw
Opal edge which shrouds a cause
aberrant blade shapes nature’s laws
Dictate a script, the stars can share
an open secret, a language bare
Steps continue, feet are drawn
across gray grass, undying pawn
Copyright © Avery Swarthout
As he slept in tranquil dream,
Suddenly he flew, it seemed.
Thrown and landing on the floor,
Shaking walls and splintered doors.
Just as quick, the room grew still.
Distant tremors he could feel.
Out the door, and up the rock,
There he stood in sleepy shock.
How could oceans disappear.
Then a hissing he could hear
And a trembling, heavy roar
Headed for an empty shore.
Sunrise turned a greenish hue,
As he climbed, a better view.
Seeming far too large, he saw
What must be a water wall.
Thought of ancient stories told
Of a wrath that could unfold;
Sucking oceans with a breath,
Spewing endless waves of death.
Instinct quickly cleared his mind.
Panic now, he clawed and climbed.
Up, despite the screams he hears,
As a village disappears.
Once an evil came to call,
Scooped them up and took them all.
Now he's old, his stories wane,
Of the morning Satan came.
Copyright © Gene Bourne
Homeboy Skank Mann Blue was strolling down the street,
Dancing to the music, bopping to the beat.
Four cops bum rushed him and knocked him on his ass,
After nearly blinding him with pepper gas.
Lesson learned, the big bad popo own this street.
Copyright © Jerry Stevenson
A kestrel dips into an updraft
thinking he knows the world
through silent valleys
around the earth
through the wind
The creature soars ever higher
in great swoops and dives
the horizon curves as it eludes vision
the stars pulse their siren
but thrill denies
their ambient warning
Gust to gust each fades
quicker than the last
whispers carry the weight of wings
and their soulful song breaches sanity
prayers of rightful good
where petty purple banners
crest twinkling hearts
The last thermal ridden
last lyric dies
as flight’s drone fades
upturned wings alone
the sky empty oblivion
as the sun aligns its beady eye
to the looping path of the bird
Two brittle forms
grapple in light
which blots out the senses
what can never be touched
smites the naive bird
an archangel buried
in a crypt
six feet deep.
Copyright © Avery Swarthout
Millions of lives and souls untold
And to account it all
Words, lines, films
A sliver of soft, scarlet ribbon
Writers flare with passion so strong
Filling minds with fantasies, reveries, histories
We consume it all like freshly baked bread
We feed until we are engorged and fed
A viral, universal mess
Ideas and unmade memories
Nothing more or less
My eyes remain glued to the screen
Living it all out
Tears dare to flow—to doubt
I should have thought of that
Can I truly let myself believe,
Someone else lived that!
Pound away your directors, script-writers, fighters
For miles and miles of stories remain unread
While the unknown remain in the grounds of humble malnourishment
Careers for the mind with a twist of the fable
Left us savage for the meal and the crumbs under the table
I can never let the raw truth rest
Naked, bare and empty—soothed
Nothing more or less
I cringed for originality
Observed the world through the unedited scripts
The very act, the poetry pact
The wild animal drooling in the back
I was slapped in the face by my boss who had cracked
As the reviews bloated less and less
They wanted something awful, something flaw-ful—something new
And this empty brain in agony—HISSED
I have lived in no epic battle of account
Of the collateral sufferings of my brothers
The stories the red carpet smothers
And still I ache to create
Before the other ones discover
I returned with ‘‘oh me’s’ and ‘oh my’s’’
With a work of pure genius—a storybook of lies
Nothing more or less
Little have I lacked to dream
Of contortioned pulls and dramatic fire
Stories that rarely brittle or tire
I fiddled with precious glass on edge
Foully eager for self-damage
As if it would trigger some legitimate spark
Searching for creatures and features in the dark
No one unlocked the passage that night
For the starving idea-parched malice of right
But all welcomed with open arms
A pale mannequin filled with jewels and charms
Consuming, fuming dooming
All ghosts hoping, screaming, looming
Hoping that one day they would find themselves on the big screen
Their legacy real as it can possibly get
Nothing more or less
Copyright © Laura Breidenthal
I was born in a world of poverty and soiled life of a third world country
The way I lived till I was five years of age was walls of boundary
These walls had towers of guards that had no heart or care
If a child would try to climb the wall they lose their life I swear
Father had drank and threatened my mother with a knife
My father lost his job and wife and that was the hardship of life
He stopped my mother from taking off with me in her arm
Hoping that my father would ignore and left me be with no harm
When my father went off to drink one night and came home with rage
My brothers stood by my crib and took a beating that set up the next stage
My father had woken up to three scared children half starved and in pain
His final words as he walk away from the orphanage gate live life do not go insane
I was still a baby in the orphanage; the caretakers did not really care about the babies
They stole items and materials those wicked men and maternal evil ladies
They starved all the babies because it cost a lot to keep them alive
As a child of that age I could feel the sins and greed that gave out bad vibes
I was ignorant about what I drank and ate, as I see white maggots move in my bottle
As I see them move I thought about how they were playing and some were hostel
They ate each other to keep each other alive in a manner that took me by surprise
In the back round I hear others throwing things with sounds of painful cries
I got very strong at a young age I was able to start pulling myself up over the cage
My feelings were to see my brothers with strong lungs that I cried out of rage
My two brothers came to see me and sneak food into my crib
The caretaker would find the food in my hands as they grabbed it and hit me on my ribs
As painful as it was I kept eating the food with blood in my mouth as it was instinct
I sometimes laid in my crib dazed and confused with smell of death so distinct
With all my might I kept myself strong and climb the small wall
I finally was old enough to get out of the building and I could hear my brothers call
With tears of joy with short legs that ran as fast as my heart
I ran to my brothers arms and held their hands to have a new start
I grew stronger everyday but more things came into my life in a manner of dismay
If my brothers stay by my side I could smile and everyday their would be okay
Copyright © Reynaldo Mast
When wind’s silence
heralds boundless oblivion
and the trembles of cracked earth
raise the dust of tears
dried by the boundless footfalls
of sallow flesh
When a thread of gold
brings unearthly thought
and the misconception
of suns fallen
drives foolish men to their knees
in unending tremors
An army of one
frees the air from his fingertips
and stays not his opal blade
as it bites the rotted gray necks
of kings released from their wrongful bliss
by his trembling palms
An army of one
unconstrained by nature’s volume
freed by the sin of his naivety
yet, bound by earth’s oldest secret
as the scarlet sun weeps
its bloodied tears
An army of one
his cloak worn through
by the acid blood of his deception
and his bones stilled;
the branches of a dying oak
which no longer caress the wind
Copyright © Avery Swarthout
Snapping and cracking and whipping we sail.
Sneaking and creaking and sinking t' hell.
Black flies our banner, black as our souls,
Black as a storm dashing ships on the shoals!
Fear us and flee us, yea, run if ye can.
Or face us and fight us down t' the last man.
Black flies our banner, blacker than coal,
Black as death's cowl, we'll swallow ye whole!
Blasting and bursting and bombing we fire.
Bleeding and weeping and wailing yer dire.
Black flies our banner, and Roger so jolly
Shall be fer yer tombstone, a mark o' yer folly!
Yea, we own the water, the wind and the waves.
These oceans t' ye shall be watery graves.
Black flies our banner, black as our souls,
We are the storm dashing ships on the shoals!
Copyright © The Grahamburglar
To The Bank And Ballroom Delights
Right here right now explosions!... excited fuses!... Bombs going off!
In the back ally by the river bank
History rising to gun shots, balloons and music
Too fast to stop as something goes off
Ballroom dancing in the dark next door
Stumbling into the bank
Alarms going off. Shots going off. Babies screaming for a change
Drinks in three or more hands or so it seems
A little blurred and fuzzy on the scene
Music blaring, people dancing
Yellow wall flowers flying off the walls
Exploding, floating on the edges
With my sweetie peach we dance all night
In hand in flight over silver lights, flashing reds overhead
Music rocks history to death in the speed of numbered steps
Caresses of my baby warm against the flesh
Power drums pounding at the door of love
Feels so real, moving slowly, growing into building rhythms
Primordial religions spinning on in joy
Tearing yellow flowers off the walls
Hurricane bands of magic raining down on clouds of love
Enhancing, advancing on the living floor
Holding on to dear life, my sweetie pie and I
Guns in our pockets as we rock
We came to rob a bank
Where did it go
Someone pointed to outside
Next to the disco tech is the ballroom dancing hall
By the river bank next door
11/21/14 Ballroom Delights - Poetry Contest
Copyright © Earl Schumacker
Green Eyed Monster - A Love Story
So, I headed home to me flat from a hard day’s night
Working in the coal mines for a quid or two
“Just outside Londondary”, me says, when some busy body inquires
I goes right home to find me bed
Right quick and fast since I’m exhausted
I finds me ugly gal Sal with some guy there
Doing some unkind deeds upon me pillow
That I can’t rightly explain right here and now
Being a gentlemanly kinda fellow that I am and seeing red
I says to Sal, “Watcha doing deary?!” “What’s that in me bed?”
She says, “Nuffin love.” “I just finished the wash and found this bloke in here
And I’m all flustered, and as surprised as you.”
As a rule me complexion is as white as these sheets once were
I becomes hysterical, flushed and weird and fumbles for me gun
“Where’s me bullets deary!” I query of the misses.
But she’s as quiet as a mouse.
Now I’m in a frenzy and frothing at the mouth
“Don’t let me get me belt out or a knife!” I yells out to the wife
“Let’s keep it nice and easy!”
I finds the bullets, fills the chambers, shoots in their direction
I missed them both
But halted the copulation or repopulation
Which ever comes first
Created on 11/25/14 for “The Green Eyed Monster” – Poetry Contest
Copyright © Earl Schumacker
Last night I dreamt
I haven’t had a dream in Christ knows how long
I dreamt a dream that shook my soul
I dreamt of the glorious uncontrollable freedom I once knew
Of an old friend estranged
Two blocks from where I now lay
I dreamt of sparks crackling from a flame
-of smoke bellowing into some abyss
-of fireflies dancing into infinity
I dreamt of stupor
Of Rock Music
I was there, unspoiled, unadulterated, unyielding
I was in pursuit of god knows what, I was ALIVE!
I was seeing the lie, believing I would transcend it
I dreamt of loud party’s in spinning rooms
I dreamt of beautiful intoxication
I dreamt of a party so large the floor fell out from beneathour feet
I dreamt of ear shattering nonsense statements
Preached to the world from front lawns for the world to hearin its three am sleep
I dreamt of myself
I dreamt of a young man enticed by the glow of an entirebottle of tequila
Caught up in a moment of pure insanity and hormone
One in which heboldly grabbed a girl by her arm and professed his desire to make love to her
The boyfriend looked at him in amazement and confusion asthe two had been holding hands
I dreamt of seemingly endless journeys to nowhere
But to my dismay always found again
I dreamt of pure, real, untainted love
I dreamt of the bewildered eyes upon me as it manifested in uniquedemented ways
My back against a wall
Adrenalinepumping as I heckle her like a carnie
challenged like a child in a school yard dare
A drop of blood
A captive audience trying to make sense of the madnessunfolding
In an explosion of energy I fell from my dream
I landed so hard it tore my dog in a dumbfounded terror fromher own sleep
I sat up
I ached to go back
My head so full of thoughts, emotions, and creativity
I grabbed a pen
I used to feel
I used to dream
I used to express and create
This morning I wrote for the first time in years.
Copyright © Jason DeSantis
"Hear me." that’s how it always starts. Some loud mouthed tyrant stepping on the backs of his followers, to throne the salted vigor of his speech.
"Follow me into this place, unknown maybe, but full of gifts to those willing to take it from the mouth of destiny, I assure you. The FATE that you…Yes YOU have earned with your blood, your sweat, your SACRIFICE! For you have left the bed of your woman, to fight for your country, for your KING! Do you not deserve the respite of hunger, of shelter? Have WE not earned that?”
And the crowd’s hungry stomachs tremble beneath the throe of desperate and determined screams both invoked and festered by the name they call KING; who seeks only to grip a longer whip, to reach further than the crown before him.
"Hear me!" "So I may show you the way, to freedom!”
The lash of a tongue, is sometimes much stronger than that of a whip..
for it is much more deceiving.
-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved.
Copyright © James Kelley
Pure white paper laid wide open on the desk
Virginity called into question from four sides
Paper never gives interviews before retiring
Never past 7:00 pm or there about that time
Pen attacked the page with explosions and burst
Black and blue rained down pure and furious
A case of pen to paper abuse
Residual ink spattered on shoes
Pen bled out, flew everywhere with oval droplets landing
Like blood splatter spewing on ceiling, walls and floor
Pure white paper had no chance against this rage
Pen hit it hard in rapid succession of random words
Scratched on the surface of the frightened white
Scarred for life
Pen had no owner or mind behind it
Cruel actions come naturally, automatic
Untouched by human hands
When confronted with pure white paper pens go crazy
They were raised that way
Copyright © Earl Schumacker
Forced down onto the thick mud
the stench of this rotten blood
Determined for this to be surreal
My fate would change if it were real
My life begins anew In my head
From the time mother put me to bed
Father took me to my first Yankee’s game
Where I was inspired by their fame
To keep the kids soundly in bed
My blood, I fear, I must shed
Not knowing whether I would live or die
the anguish is consuming my thigh
The pain is slowly dying out
my destiny is nothing but a doubt
Laying on the red infested loam
Guadalcanal, you are my last home.
Copyright © Jorge Torres
Here and there its just you
if you turn on your radio
everywhere its you, when
will you be tired of killing?
When will you be tired of
When are you going to
notice that we are tired of
Your name scares even
little kids,we get tired of
hearing from you always
we will love it when you
disapear but it seems you
will never do,so believe us
or not we will help you get
away from our lives
Copyright © Dinha Melcy
Thorns piercing through my heart while it's burning. Vines flowing out of my soul, and I look to the sky. Hallelujah, I'm alive. Hallelujah I'm whole.
Smoke of cigarettes flame out into the open. Feelings of charm and warmth pass across my lungs. I see twelve or more dwarfs marching in rows. One of them stepped on my toes.
Planes flying into the fog, and women being rapped in the alleys. The life we lead are lies, planned out like puppets from another dimension.
Time can't save us. We save time to save us. The sun goes down, and everything is quiet. Birds chirping, and the wind blowing white snowflakes onto my face.
Walking passed the church. Blood on White. Everything's a fight. We rise to the golden gates and we look upon the spirits.
The leaders and missions fail. It's not the end of this tale, when soon there will be more blood shed. Anger and hatred have no room. Live the life you are born to lead, or you will just be another blood on white.
Copyright © Teresa Habas
"The Coldest Dish: Chapter One"
by: Silent One and Eric Boddie
This is the story of an old ancient Chinese master,
for those who challenged him, it only resulted in disaster.
Built like steel, flexible like elastic, Kung fu was his game,
in every contest, every participant feared his name.
Throughout his Life, he mastered so many styles
All stemming from the day his home was defiled
As only a baby, the Black Lotus killed all his next of kin
And in the 40 years that passed, he was consumed with getting revenge
Years of pain, had slowly built rage inside,
the black lotus was afraid, he had nowhere to hide.
With his Shaolin sword, the kung fu master set off in his quest,
after 40 years of training, he was at his lethal best.
After days and days of travel, the first destination was reached
The school atop the mountain where the black lotus teached
Quickly and silently, blood flooded the entire room
The master showed no mercy in creating this bloody tomb
The black lotus relied on his ferocious dragon claw,
but the kung fu master defended with the tiger paw,
attacked with a venomous flying kick and broke his jaw,
pierced his heart with his sword, such brutality was the law.
But there was a sound behind the wall, what could it be
Not yet dead, the black lotus looked on in such pain and misery
The master removed the wall to find black lotus' wife and daughter who was with child
The master then said, "REMEMBER MY FAMILY!!!," coldest dish style
Yet he had a heart, he spared them and showed mercy,
after all he knew the pain of loss and showed them sympathy.
Putting his sword away, he walked away, accomplishing his revenge,
but these stories never end, as one day the child will look to avenge.
5 August 2015
Copyright © eric boddie
In matters of importance & civility,
Guard your hearts out of respect with & humility
There is arise in a delicate strength in numbers & so it may seem
Workplace violence is also determined by levels of deterance;
For the heart is deceitful above all else so who can know it,
One must become attentive toward all forms of posted protocol initiatives
To profile who fits the person in question fits a certain criteria
A brief moment in silence toward any harmless brevity
One must look intently into everyone in our society;
Mark the man who would be willing in which to explore
Justifiaction as an easy ploy?
What would life be like without its protection?
A quest for reason amidst desire;
Let us take a deeper look into this equation
We must strive to learn each day
With matters of detering & detecting our nations borders
In retrospect, with the service that should be implemented;
Each facility must be fully trained in equipping their workers
To become the best one must learn to achieve with quality excellence
In matters of strict enforcement it is of extreme importance
To form an essential delegation & communication
One must never sit still nor lightly negate their responsibility
Those foundational fundamentals that far too
It is important to remember that plans must be implemented to become effective
Security should move to accomadate all party's that are involved
Never to relent nor give into any false compromise system nor structure of thought
Workplace violence prevention should be resolved with the utmost respect & dignity
Throughout the vast expanse in time,
Commuication has been the essential fore runner toward this success...
One must virtual deter & report matters of security;
Since the days previously to the onset of the tragedy that had occured with the events
Immersion in a culture that promotes constant development should be the chief aim.
Copyright © Mario Vitale
The day United Ways
slurp some Reality Stew
we will change this name
to The Same Ol' Competition Way;
cheering for ever-more community support
with the same constituency
we are teaching to over-power each other
for both community support and service.
Our United Way systemically grows
a Divided Fail.
The day our Philanthropic Foundation
absorbs some polyculturing compost,
we will learn to ask whose foundation is this really?
Are we a Foundation of inclusive cooperation?
A Foundation with Golden Rule
applied to all species living now
and in our global future,
incarnating through our Elder species
for mutually optimizing regenerative purpose?
Are we a Philanthropic Foundation
created by people
who deeply cared about sustaining life's integrity
for seven generations?
Perhaps even more?
Are we more a Foundation of confusing mobbed competition
for scarce resources,
or a Foundation for regenerating abundant contentment,
optimized economic policies for cooperative
ecological health and well-being networks;
for minimizing suffering and exploitive commodification,
economic decomposition of Earth's natural elements and systems;
a pro-life Commons
racing to win diverse harmonies
before losing our dreams
of teleological faith?
Could we become a Foundation for optimizing public policies
for mutually cooperative mentoring
of vocational choice,
multisystemically functional, maybe even deeply creative, families
and thereby communities?
We stand within this permacultural Foundation
for cooperative mutual-investment guilds,
consumer and producer networks,
for growing global consciousness of eco-balance identity,
Earth Care as Self and Other Care,
revolutioning this ReGenesis Foundation,
with both interior and exterior landscape applications,
both YinTime and YangSpace eco-function metrics,
mutually mentoring Earth's polyculturally cooperative eco-logic.
Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck
Started to Slowly Sail
She slowly started to sail out to sea
To America, far better place to ever be
Cruise would have to cross the Atlantic
Tremendous, great ship was the Titanic.
Several ports Titanic did travel through
Like many large ships usually may do
Gathering up passengers here and there
Leaving loved ones behind was hard to bare.
Turned out that it had been late at night
Passengers were to become full of fright
Maiden voyage of Titanic ran out of luck
So sadly a big iceberg soon was struck.
Some drowned at sea never seen again
While others into a lifeboat did jump in
And past this incident finally would fade
Until recently about it a movie was made.
Movie centered around necklace with a jewel
That proved to provide a thoughtful tool
To base part of moving, marvelous movie on
And to see it millions of people have gone.
Along with jewel was an arduous love affair
Between two who were an important player
In the very end she they were sure to save
And loved one now exists in a watery grave.
Never again ever can another compare
With this movie and my poem want to share
About Titanic that one day on sea did abound
And silently slipped into sea without a sound.
James Thomas Horn, Retired Veteran and Poet
We must realize that much of the movie is fiction.
Copyright © James Horn
Searching the waves for sight of a sail.
Throwing back hearty tankards of ale.
" Sails to port, " the lookout did call.
So excited was he that he nearly did fall.
Closin' in on the prey excitement grows.
In less than an hour we'll come to blows.
Ocean spray feels good on my face.
Closer and closer we're winnin' the race.
" Weapons in hand, " I cry from the poop.
My wolves get ready as we near the sloop.
The vessel did gleam, she's a true beauty.
My blood is boilin' for my pirates booty.
" At her lads, " I yell through a death grin.
We swarmed so fast the fight did barely begin.
The fight was swift but it was bloody.
After spyin' the treasure I knew we'd been lucky.
Out of the chest gold spilled to the deck.
Loot her and burn her, we'll sink this wreck.
Back to our ship we take our loot.
Survivors on the plank their gettin' the boot.
Twas just another day in a pirates life.
You've got to be quick and sharp as a knife.
Copyright © Scott Williams