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
~Don’t Fall ~
Yet another restless night
Bad dreams every other hour
I turn on the light hoping
It will calm me down
Yet it takes me back in time
And there he stands
Like a shadow in the night
Naked as can be
Laughing an evil laugh
As he says to me
Mio Piccola Puttana
I can’t let him get to me
So please teardrops
I look into the mirror
I see that pasty skin
Paired with double chins
I think to myself starving won’t Even get the fat off
I feel so defeated yet still
I tell myself
Looking for a way out
I feel like I am stuck inside my Past
Reliving every moment
One after another
It feels like it is happening all over Again
I feel the tears in my eyes so I say
Now I can see him in the faces of Strangers
I feel so alone and out of place
I still force myself to get up each Day
Even though I want to hide
It is such a struggle
Day after day
And to add to the pain
I have to make sure those
If you touch me I might break
If you are hear to see me
Please don’t hurt me
That I wouldn’t be able to take
Know that I am like a dam ready To break
So if you were to hug me
Hold my hand or touch me
In any other comforting way
This dam may break
And there won’t be any telling
Copyright © Jeanna York
Every child is born into this world crying,
Little did this poor child know, tears would fall for the rest of her life.
Born into a world of abuse, heartache and pain,
With a drug addict, alcoholic abusive father and a heartless mother.
Every day was the same, left alone with only silence and darkness,
Dirty clothes, little to eat with every cry for help resulting in violence.
How could her eyes see any happiness when they had run dry?
How could she smile with cut lips and a bruised body?
At 7, her mother died from a lethal overdose of alcohol and drugs,
However, the abuse got worse as she became her father’s new toy.
Poor little girl, an object of carnal gratification and her innocence stolen,
By a man who was responsible for her protection and well being.
The effects of a dark and destructive childhood destroyed her confidence,
With low self esteem and no social skills, they mocked her in school.
Little did they know about the struggles in her life and the pain she was going through,
Bruised and abused, having to make her own lunch with no help from a pathetic father,
This was her daily routine- even hell would have been a more peaceful place for her.
But, little did the world know the girl had a hidden talent,
The voice of an angel and the mind of a creative poet.
At night when she sang, the stars glowed to her beautiful lullaby,
The ink of her pen was like blood rushing from her veins to create magical lyrics.
Music and poetry was her escape from a life of cruelty and rejection,
Her talent was hidden, so no one could help her reach her potential.
As the girl grew, her abuse never stopped, there seemed no end,
With constant memories of painful yesterdays and a childhood lost.
She used her incessant pains and struggles to enhance her music,
Writing hours upon hours of poetry and songs, self-teaching brilliance…
Deep inside she yearned for someone to understand her, to see her…
If not, but one, she would she be wholly satisfied
Many nights she would find herself crying uncontrollably,
The darkness of the room enveloping her every being
She could see the past in her mind’s eye and be reminded of the sick present
She began to hate her father, and every brat at her school
She cursed death and life alike, and envied her mother’s eternal sleep
Everyone who spit their insult, everyone who remained silent and apathetic,
She hated them with a passion so self-destructive, it burned her raw scars...
Teaching herself to hold it in, so that on paper she could create masterpieces
And prove all of the monsters around her wrong…
In silence, she recalled the worst memories to shame further her reality.
A part of her knew that she was incredibly talented,
Though the darkness often blinded her with guilt
She felt that she did not deserve even a voice,
Her writings were but a sick reminder of demons she could never conquer
Shivering in the cold, her skin dirty and dry,
Ugly…ugly…was the only word she could live by
One night, she contemplated taking her life…
She vowed all of her suffering would meet a greater purpose,
Beyond the grave…beyond fear of hell beneath
She was dirt after all, like the kids always told her
How much worse could it be, facing the flames she was born in?
She threw the kitchen knife down and looked up at the stars above
Even Death would reject her, she knew…
In acceptance, she acknowledged her ugliness and became a stunning underdog
Rebellion sifted through her veins and her strength brought fear to her father
Bullies looked at her as if she was the devil himself
No one could tell her what to do anymore,
And nobody would ever understand her
Though that was okay…
Because that is all she ever knew
Ten years later, the rotten roller coaster continued
Though a fateful night of circumstance had led her right on the stage
Men were mesmerized by her fierceness and apathy
Not being able to grasp each significant line layered in truth
She showed none mercy as she slayed ruthless chords of wonder
Her voice rang angelically, mixed with the fires and tears of her life
Echoing beyond the grave of cold Death… beyond what was wrong or right
It was her silence that stunned the audience the most
Those eyes, having seen so much…felt so much…hid so much…
That cut mouth, with the eternal dry trickle of a bitter tear
The world was not prepared for her intolerable genius,
Just as she was not prepared for their astonished applaud…
-A collaboration by The Silent One and I : )
Copyright © Laura Breidenthal
Now here is the story of a restless young man
Who dreamed of fighting in South Vietnam.
He’d learned about war in the comics he’d read
And he knew in his heart that for this he’d been bred.
As soon as it came up, the lads eighteenth year
He went off to enlist for an army career.
He saw some old major and he sat for some tests
Then the shrink and the doctor saw him with the rest
Of those gallant young fellows that wanted to fight
And give to their country the force of their might.
When all this was over it was late in the day
So feeling elated he for home made his way.
About two weeks later a letter arrived
And reading it’s message his spirits raised high.
For he’d been accepted a soldier he’d be
And the feel of the message did fill him with glee.
He had to front up in a couple of days
And then for Kapooka he’d be on his way.
Ten weeks in Kapooka it taught him a lot
He learned to make war and leave bodies to rot.
He was taugh how all commies just murdered and lied
And that he and his country had God on their side.
And that no sacrifice could be too great to make
And it’s an honour to die for a great country’s sake.
His training all over he joined a Platoon
He’d made Infanteer he’d be fighting soon.
It was off to corp training to learn even more
About all of the goodies that go with a war.
He kept seeing his image all tough, mean and strong
For he was a fighter and this was his song.
It was just eight months later that his posting came through
He was off to the jungles, his dream had come true.
Well his plane soon arrived at that sad Nui Dat
Where he first heard the guns as their missiles they spat.
He was fearful at first but he soon became calm
These guns were on his side they’d do him no harm
A month or two later he’s out on patrol
As tail end Charley He’s playing the role
They were deep in the scrub with peace all around
Then the air came alive with this terrible sound.
He felt himself falling “Lord is this a dream”
He asked as he heard he his God awful scream.
He lay there not hurting but sensing the worst
As he felt all around where his stomach had burst.
Where once it was firm gaped a warn sticky hole
It seemed that again war had taken it’s toll.
It seemed like a nightmare, a terrible dream
As the medic assured him that it weren’t like it seemed.
He sensed the black silence and quickened with fear
For man stands alone when his end it be clear.
Then something within him gave way to great peace
As his wisdom did whisper that all things must cease.
Then the great mother came, took him gently away
From that place of man’s anger where a body did lay.
A true story of a friend of mine who died in Vietnam written in 1975....Peter
Copyright © Peter Duggan
Life is a litter of examples, and I must be true
My sister made it through school and I can too
The best example is my own flesh and blood
She was born in the struggle, she grew in the mud
My mama keeps selling me her only dream
Education is the key, child, it is her theme
So my probity is to be the best in school
The proof of my dignity is that I’m no fool.
I know violence destroys hopes and careers
I study, but can’t concentrate, neither my peers
Police cars screaming, gun shots in our ears
The violence is mounting and so are my fears
I reflect, I think back, what they did with pen
And ink, they did achieve, but now we descend
And stand at the brink. Dr. King was our friend,
Our hero, our leader, a good example to men
He walked through the bitter darkness, bold
He was undaunted, he led families and fold
Across the bridge of peace, it was no breeze
Let us be united and continue the legacy, please
Let us be like Dr. King, Rosa Parks and Ghandi
Let us be understanding, rise in dignity
Forget the color, it’d not race, not black and white
It is coming together to do what is right
Stop the violence, the hate, the destruction
Of the mind, the crucifying of our ambition
The overthrowing of our leaders and history
They paved a way, a way we can be free.
I want to live in comfort without hostility
I want to claim the prize and keep the legacy
I want my education; I am tired of the policy
That binds me politically to impotency
O we are losing our kids without making a sound
We are falling apart being politically bound
I ask myself what can I do, O what can I do
I am praying to God the dream will come through
Copyright © David Smalling
Through and through though more to do-
A thousand thoughts to misconstrue!
Too long I've waited, too sad and sedated
To live a lie I declare is true...
And so it seems that in my dreams
I bathe myself in Moonlight beams
That light the night, turn black to white
And will slit my throat at any means!
Copyright © Just That Archaic Poet
cold caused fatigues
the colors of a life
silenced behind the continuous intrigues
each step a mile
distance a dream
the color-blinded wet eyes
no longer hiding a huge courageous smile
all valiant steps
capture free miles
each stage a victory
beyond that wooden and iron spiderwebs
closed that hateful gate with a resolute slap
ahead a new colorful life to unwrap
© Ellie Daphne
Copyright © Elly D. A. Wouterse
The sound of blasts are heard all over,
The child with his innocent eyes, sees...
The wide range of people massacred,
He wonders, where is the peace...
The child overlooks the broken city,
hoping to catch a single gleam...
An innocent child holding her doll,
Why are they shattering my dream...?
A baby laughs, when the angels sing,
But woe to the Enemies!
This baby cries when its mother is killed,
Why does it have tears instead of smiles..?
Why is there war, when there can be peace,
Why so much hatred , when there can be love?
Why do people kill one another,
When there can fly a peaceful white dove??
Copyright © Afnan Hafiz
In the narrow world of your dream home
I’m a suspicious and a cryptic man
Thoughts and feelings born in my mind
How could I plainly explain to whom you doesn’t listen
Your concrete hopes burst neither reasonable reason
My abstract dreams sway in humanity means
A center to meet together disturbs traumatic ignorance
How would find our desires to fulfill at the key lost entrance
I never oppose you to sink in your world you wish to do so
You never bear my abstract world that fight for better so
Since I live in your frame, I’m a prisoner of suffer so
The great wall that is built, blindly life, I suppose so
Mistrust grows and conflict hurts forever we realized
Disgust studs, space arrest us time not allowed
Revenge in darkness behaves hands with bomb aimed
Cuffs in hands of hearts in moral cry that never hoped
Udaya R. Tennakoon
Copyright © Udaya R. Tennakoon
Such pain foretold.
Women of old,
As fears unfold.
Burning, cracking, the earth splits apart.
Warning, oh warning of my poor breaking heart.
Losing love as it fades into black,
Splitting the earth with fiery cracks.
The starless sky, filled with ash,
For magma bursts through a glowing red gash.
Such fear, unknown, what are you saying.
Please I need to know what the future doth hold, I’m begging, I’m praying.
Am I decaying?
No more, let me sleep.
Copyright © shawnee doling-tye
I do not know?
Blood stained eyes
Gaze upon innocents sleeping form,
Spoils the promise of blissful slumber
As naive eyes twitch with dreams
Of purity and grace
Guides twisted hands
Towards violent deeds
Warm sweet breath
Exhales from un-kissed lips,
Wet with remembrance and anticipation
Of life’s wonders yet to be lived
From now waken eyes,
As an incestuous destruction
Of one’s self is committed
And the very soul of god
Is ripped from the now ruined vessel
Of what was once,
Innocent’s sleeping form.
Copyright © Thomas King