Black squirrels bound skewways
from the house, shadowshifts
falling darkly on
dusty white autumnal
snow. Paw prints run
makeshift memories soon
snowed over. Leaping
on tree trunks they wind their
way upward on paths of birch
bark in quick roundhouse runs.
I watch them go from
a seat by the door
and eavesdrop on the
dripping eaves trough. Icicles
hang like stalactites
The heater blows dry
air over my face as
dust rides recirculated
draft flows and floats upward
in a beam of magnetic
light. A thin frosting
of human sloughcells
settles on the windowsill
in a regiment I
attack with the duster
before they regroup and
resettle. Single cells
born of a single self. I
pace circles on the
fading cream carpet.
Copyright © Anthony Donnelly
You lay down with a man
For the very first time
Unknowingly conceive a child
That will soon die
And now you can’t figure out why
You didn’t make him wear protection
So you wouldn’t end up pregnant
And to save your body from infection
Now this child who deserved a chance
Will die before become a fetus
You could have taken care of that child
Or given it to family you could trust
But this one night
Of infatuation and lust
Brought about unplanned pregnancy
But you choose not to
Face up to your responsibility
You go and abort this child
Without thinking twice
But you know in your heart
That its just not right
You’re only sixteen
But what does that mean?
You were old enough to spread your legs
And old enough to have a man in your bed
But can’t take care of a child
You had without being wed
So because of your naïve childish ways
Your baby never got to see
The light of one day
Copyright © Lanikka Wright
Dolt and dull the deed is done
Copyright © Sizo Hlophe
Fantastic friends fry fresh fish friday for fun
Copyright © Harley Green
The floor drips towards the sky.
The walls fall, the seats rise.
With every emotion the room reacts.
Silence, the theatre has always lacked.
Blood, sweat, and tears backstage are shed from the actors,
But all the audience sees is happiness and laughter.
The Stage tells the stories, and no one believes.
They ask, “How could people so dismal create something so happy?”
The Walls and the Ceiling back up the Stage’s claim,
But everyone that hears it says it’s a lie, and walks angrily away.
The actors aren’t happy that their secret got out.
At the theatres Walls they scream and shout.
They yell things that can never be unsaid,
Then go home satisfied, and turn into bed.
The theatre could never house people so dark,
So it shuts its doors with a loud bang, and locks everyone out.
The droplets of rain drip on the roof covered ceiling.
The Stage and the Walls begin the process of healing.
The house today is empty still, shut out from everything and everyone.
Though many have tried, no one has succeeded in making the Theatre and the actors once again one.
Copyright © Ashley Maddox
Apples and Azaleas are always around.
Bright beautiful buds bloom while
crisp cultured cabbage and cucumbers
dot the darkened dirt.
Every edible is excellent.
Fame is so far flung for
Grandma's glorious garden that
Handy Horticulture has offered to hire her.
Imagine, envision her incredulity of their insistence.
Just another jovial, jocular juncture in Grandma's jubliant journey.
TLH © 07-11-2012
Copyright © Tanya Harrington
The world is a platform
And the people the audience
Waiting for you to perform
You are a star
Your inspiration their reform
Hope you could do your best
Stand up and be counted
Be the first
There are difficulties
But forget the worst
The world is your guest
So go higher
Yeah higher than mount Everest
For if you perform right
You steal the spot light
And you don't just win
The people but their heart
The audience cheers you up
Like you are the king
And all the women
Dieing to be your queen
Money is not the thing
You started lately
But you are doing greatly
Forget about the rest
And do your best
Copyright © Matt Ancient
I see people of different race and culture
so calm and calculative i stare like the vulture.
I see mothers with babies strapped to their backs-
and men with goods in woven sacks.
I see the child with the hope of tomorrow,
so do i see the old with tears of sorrow,
all these that i see-
is nothing but guts and glee.
Copyright © Muyideen Ayinla
< Banana ~ boat ~ Bob ~ is ~ a ~ slippery..... Boob
Thought ~ that ~ this ~ town ~ lost ~ it's .... groove
No ~ spice ~ no ~ life ~ no .... nothing
Little ~ lost ~ boy ~ now ~ looks ~ for ~ his ~ Lucy's .... ring
When ~ where ~ what ~ or ~ even ...... why
I'll ~ inquire ~ insist ~ innovate ~ or ~ even ..... lie
His ~ history ~ of ~ having ~ such ~ big ....... hamstrings
Maybe ~ even ~ mighty ~ magical ~ musical ~ fruits ~ and .... greens
Or ~ having ~ big ~ over-sized ~ onions ~ olives ~ and ..... Kiwi
screw ~ this ~ he's ~ scum ~ skewered ~ tossed ~ back ~ to ... sea
Poor ~ precious ~ pretty ~ Lucy ~ got ....... pranked
Cause ~ curious ~ Bob ~ couldn't ~ control ~ love ~ so ~ he .... sank
All ~ alone ~ and ~ now ~ very .... angry
Drowing ~ deep ~ in ~ own ~ do-do ~ droppings .... whopie
Luscious ~ Lucy ~ now ~ can ~ look ~ long ~ and ...... hard
For ~ another ~ fast ~ floating ~ free ~ salemens ~ not ~ selling.... lard
Luscious Love Lingers Contest
Copyright © Katherine Stella
The streets are busy with silence,
And Sammy is in his own little world,
Focused on his own private route.
His own secret place,
Private, it’s a funny word,
A funny word just like, secret,
Sometimes we fail to realize how we carelessly carry our secrets on our sleeve.
Sammy wants his feelings, emotions, his life to be hidden away,
Still, in the silence of the streets,
I see the sadness and stress all over his stance.
The shops are packed with stillness,
And Sammy is doing his job, keeping stands tidy,
Keeping customers happy,
Making his manager proud,
Happy, it’s a strange word,
A strange word just like proud,
Feelings for ourselves that we sacrifice for the satisfaction of strangers.
Sammy thrives on the temporary moods of others to determine his contentment,
Yet, in the stillness of the shops and the silence of the streets,
I see the sadness and the stress all over his stance,
In each fragment of his face.
Between the shops and the streets,
Sammy finds a place that he can refer to as home,
But in the silence and the stillness of his slow beating heart,
He understands that something greater than his being is missing.
And Sammy needs a friend, a friend to show him the truth.
A friend to show him that in the stillness of the shops and the silence of the streets,
He carries sadness and stress all over his stance,
In each fragment of his face, and in each shy shift of each shoulder,
For one reason, and one reason alone.
He’s missing one more word oozing sibilance,
The one word that completes, this poem and will fulfill his life.
Copyright © REGINA OLADIPO
Winsome Wendy walked in winter's white
Wondering when her window box wisteria would grow.
Wintry wisps followed by winter's windstorm
Wiped out her wonderful window work.
Winsome Wendy wanted to whine
"Without the wisteria, could winter be fine"?
While still walking, Wendy happened upon Woeful Will
Who worked without reward.
Winsome Wendy withstood the wisecracks that
Woeful Will had witlessly worded to her.
Wendy's withdrawal, spurned the wishy-washy Will
Which was witnessed by Watchful Ward.
Winsome Wendy went to the windbreak
Which Watchful Ward had wrought.
Wincing in the wind of winter's weight
Watchful Ward worded a simple warning to Wendy...
"Watch out for the windchill".
Copyright © Daniel Cwiak
What is our purpose?
Why are we here?
Why are we here left in fear shedding all these tears
starring at this demond in this mirrior
blinded by everything I see so clear
where am i going after this life? and is it near?
people always always saying swagga shut up stupid clowns
I see all you frowning behind that fake smile
I can help all im spreading the word around my town
to make you turn that frown upside down
they have you in the palm of there hands cant you see it?
If it wasnt for them we wouldnt be asking all these bulls*** questions
and not to mention who are you to be asking me who im reppin
you should get hit in the mouth but
before all that idiotic violence let me talk to you.....
they got you all so corrupt but yall dont know so you dont give a f***
they have you like a trout with a kook caught in its mouth some slip and get
away there the lucky ones who can actually say
I have truly been saved
I have to be brave and put up a fight till the end of my days
they say im headed in the wrong direction but thats the governement
there just like a nasy infection
theyll always be here picking at your brain saying all the answers are in this certain section
always saying dont use Jesus's name in vain but every king has his rain
all loss through out years to come its people like me that will put your name to shame
am i satanic NO these are just my devilsh thoughts
theres turning back im self sustained put in this hell knowing very well that i shall rise above all these brainless people that are stuck in this hell get out of that brainwashed shell
to escape this long life lasting jail not knowing you are rotting in this cell
I really do care about my people
the government they dont there the true definition of evil
they work for lucifer so they do what they have to, to get thier share
piece the puzzle and you will find it
Jesus Christ is luccifer he has all you misguided he himself and his dominions where all behind it.
Copyright © Ray Padilla
As but only one young lost man in a great land I sometimes don’t want to see what I see in life but death causes me to look. I don’t want to hear the things I hear but have to admit the things here that I’ve heard. I don’t want to be guilty today it’s why I continue to strive past my past for innocence in the near future. I don’t want to feel what I feel but after another day in this dark place has gone by I can’t hide what I have painfully felt. As but one young man I wonder why I question others motives and still can’t see the answers to my own as if I know all the answers to life when I don’t even know the true cause of my own. I wonder why I am happier at times but more often than not why I continue to be sad. I look for ones in groups of twos and get lost in groups of threes, but don’t get even me started on the groups of fours. On the outside world I am lost yet inside myself I know I am found, I holler silently at night while I quietly pray during the day. As but only one young man I can only do what is best for self-first if I want to start making a difference for two.
Sometimes life for one can be fun, but on the reservation more often than not it is boring and dull. On the reservation I found serenity and solitude in the hills but I also found old savages and young Satan’s in the towns. I see beauty and peace in Mother Nature but I also found violence and ugliness among my very own in the neighborhood. I see not what I see and I think not what I think for I feel what I see which leads me to think. I choose rather to just be rather than not be what other people want me to be. I see what I see because I haven’t really got a choice in what I will see, I’d rather choose to just say that I saw. Outside people can’t make one see what I already choose not to see for I see what I see rather if they want me to see things their way or not. I can’t feel what they feel unless they feel what I feel and live where I live and be where I am to know where I truly am from to understand the thoughts and feelings of not only a young native of struggle, but as a person worldwide no matter the skin color.
Copyright © Travis Lone Hill
< Betty Boop bought boyfriend Bimbo some basketballs to bounce
But being blind her boyfriend Bimbo bounced Betty Boop
Boy Betty Boop did boldly bounce bad
This Little Lady Is After My Own Heart
For No matter What She Does Wrong
Her Eyes Seem To Capture The One She Loves LOL
And Also One Of My Favorite Cartoons
Copyright © Katherine Stella
‘Cause, Priests and Prophets Must Pray for The Reign…
and for Pre and Post-Op-Apocalyptic–Novocain ! …
Yet… It Doesn’t Matter, What Distress to You
On the Planet, however Polluted or Profane
It Doesn’t Matter, What Distress to You
Wherever the Delusional -Dimensional Plane
It Doesn’t Matter, What Distress to You
Or Danger-Plot, Prison-Door or Deepest Pain
Or Present-Defeat, or Darkest-Hours-View
even Thru Dying-Breath, Devout Prayers Proclaim
to Be Delivered- New, True, and Pulled-Thru
to Claim The Prize of Life-Perpetually-Sustained
… For Particularly, By God’s Unpronounceable Power
Thru His Son’s Unparallel- Principal-Purchase… Dower
God’s Dependents and Dreamers Will Prosper-Gain
The Prophecy, The Promise, The Paradise-Preordained
The Perfect-Future and The Victory-Parade
… The Distant, Destiny of Eden – Never Been Doused Nor Degrade
Then… It Won’t Matter…So, Please Dismiss The Paltry-Strain
The Days of The Deformity and Damage-Train
Will Be In The Past … Departed-Detained
Disaster and Disloyal Will Lay In A Destroyed-Plain
Damned For All Of Time –Proliferate-Blamed
Patience-Persevering…Demands Punishment - Prediction-Sang…
… Final-Draft …Stop-The-Presses!... Poll-Loudly-Refrains
When You Really Discern and Pragmatically-Attain
The Divine God and His Son’s King- Domain
Publicize Their Progenitor and Predominant Names
and Preach and Deify Like-Doting-Platoon-Swains,
with Pedestal-Passion and ‘Plum-Plumb’, Persistence-Ingrained
For On Position-Comparison, We ‘All’ Pale-to- A-Feigned …
…Puppets and Peons and Dim-Witted-Parasitic-Great Danes
and Dopamine Defective, Demerol Addicted – Darwin-Poisoned-Sprains
or Just-Plain ol’ Dire-Derelicts-Insane
(and now… I have a P D Q,… for Me and You… Migraine)
Oh… May They Accept This Poor-Placard-Crane
Amen… Again… Amen
Copyright © MoonBee Canady
Busty Betty beguiled the besotted boys
Painfully plain Polly puzzled over her plight
Dapper Dan discovered the delights of drive-ins
Blushing busty Betty before long began to bulge
Polly perceived her problem and preceded
To point the poor papa and his problem to the priest
Copyright © Barbara Gorelick
I live in a place striving for sobriety surrounded in alcohol looking for happiness trapped among our very own sadness. I hear my people’s laughs and I hear my people’s cries, but most of all I see their dreams because their dreams are my dreams because we remain not against each other today as enemies but hidden friends united through culture, language and blood. I laugh with my people and of course I cry with my people and I fight with my people but most of all I continue to dream with my people. I know who I am and where I am from to know where I been to still hope to where I am going to go. I feel darkness engulf not only myself but also almost my entire reservation’s race, no matter mixed or not because soon our culture and language will have no face without any more light to shine upon it. I know where I lived and still live to know if I will truly go where I truly want to go in life before I have my one walk with death. I know by a long shot that I am not the best but by a close hit on the reservation’s target I could be better.
I take a stand against self to stand against others to better a worsening crowd of many young lost indigenous souls waiting to be unknowingly found and waiting for something similar to what I’m about to write. I take a stand for self so that others know that we aren’t all lost and we can and will be found with the true hope of no one’s but your own. I take a stand because my brothers and sisters wont, I take a stand because now days most the people around me or within me can’t or don’t know how, I take a stand for the children who don’t have a father and mother as I once had, I take a stand for my unborn child almost here, I take a stand for courage because within me is filled with fear, I take a stand against because the alcohol and drugs within me now I just can’t stand, I take a stand for those around me who cannot stand, I take a stand for a culture dying on its knee’s trying to get back up, I take a stand for the forsaken yet to be forgiven self-stand.
I patiently wait, lying away in the darkness searching for light even though I can see the light I just don’t know how to get on thy path to the light. I am not alone, I know for a fact that I am not alone in my thoughts and feelings about life on earth here. I can see our pain, I can hear the hollers and screams, I can feel your anguish and I can smell our destruction. I walk through the reservation valley of darkness as if I am but a blind witness to our own destruction upon where many of us go unknown truly forever in depths of time, in the depths of death.
I know that I cannot give in or give up on a dream of a people’s dream where the buffalo in our young hearts and minds may roam around free and where the wolf warrior chief may rise above all odds and become thy greatest modern day warrior, the people seek him, the people crave him, the people need him, the people need someone to rise if not geographically the worldwide mentally.
Copyright © Travis Lone Hill
In a pick pack boom a wonderful light in the sky
Beaming gleaming screaming people out in the street
Watching the parade of light danced, glanced tranced
Happy sappy snappy to watch the firecrackers so beautifully
Amazing as it make the sky lively sparkly wonderfully
It shone in the dark out in the park making the mark
A sign of celebration in a cloud nine look so divine
Graces in the space a part of beauty to embrace
Copyright © lena empino
A time when money rules
We can only watch
We dream of what we could have been
While just burning the clock
Don’t take life lightly
It’s never too late
You can have a second chance
Don’t make the mistake
You have your solid job
That doesn’t what makes you tick
You move through your life
Pretending for the next
But you fake the things
that really you should mean
It’s cover for this outside world
Just so you don’t have to face them
You are not forgotten
You’re not left behind
You have the contents
And you make your move
This life is what you make it
Do you want to leave it alone
Don’t run away from it
That’s a journey we all know
Take what you have
Throw all else away
There’s hope for all others
No matter what they say
If one could define evil
I think one thing we can agree
Not performing to your potential
Is killing like a mercenary
The world keeps us in front of the tube
Scared of what might happen
How can we view their ads
If we’re always on the move
The world’s not strong enough
To make these things happen
We don’t have bad luck
It’s the propaganda machine
Don’t let it keep you down
You don’t have to take it
This all cause and affect
So be what your meant to be
Copyright © Gregory Horn
Little Lucy Lancelot lunching on an apricot,
Looking like a lovely London lady.
Bully Billy Ballantine wants to be her valentine,
But Lucy loves the goodly Graham Grady.
Copyright © William Robinson
How long, how tough
This world, just war
Endless war, endless world
Words and world, all about war.
Oh, what's war in this world?
The world's war, not yet in your world?
Wait till your words reveal the war.
I wonder, will this world end its wonders?
What an irreversible order
It's not our order!
I wonder, when will the order become a past order?
Others wonder "how will a new order be ordered?"
Yes! How long will this order make orders and not our own orders?!
Copyright © Samuel Fatokun Ph
queen's countless quoted queries -
revealed...remains real raw
waiting while worrying - weird
nothingness - no knocks
birth bleeds, life's lost ~
Copyright © jun-jun villanueva
Delivering deeper devotion
Sweet sensual sensations
Bring belief beyond bond
Driving delectable decisions
Combining casual caressing
Sponsor Adeleke Adeite
Contest Name unspeakable love!
Copyright © cecil hickman
god i was mad at you today forgive this ipray and all because thing didn't go my way!i chilled out and figue you had you reasons,even thouth ididnt under stand i talked to you in a way i can't bear too say!yuor people they love me so sorry to them too without i wouldn't know what to do!you and them keep me from losing my mind i love you god all the time!your angel begs your forgivness now iknow your people will forgive me somehow!
Copyright © steven coleman
Caresses and Kisses
Pockets and Playfulness
Bras, Beauty and Belt loops
Copyright © Moose Bak
A mystic of mystics,
Made old truths sound new.
A thinker of thinkers,
When speak startle and out-think you.
A speaker of speakers,
Niether to valorise,
Nor to ridicule motherland.
A philosopher of philosophers,
Was an inner journey
With a pristine stand.
His eyes hypnotise,
His words magnetise,
His personality poetise,
The truth , the unexpected.
The confidence and the era he directed,
makes him an Indian sage,
Our philosophycally unadventurous times,
Need his gaze,
To tie our nation once again,
Into a "literally independent" knot.
- Sanskruti Singh Jadon
Copyright © Sanskruti Singh Jadon
My bed is anxious,waiting for my snores
Today's going to bed, tomorrow's a few steps ahead
I wonder why I took "the" pen
I feel like putting them down
What am I inking?
Just wanna scratch my itchy paper with my juicy ink
Singers? Go sing...
Comedians? Go do comedy...
Others? What's your "itchy paper?"
Have you applied your "ink?"
Be good at what you do
Love what you do
Go scratch it!
Copyright © Samuel Fatokun Ph
P erky poets penning perfect poetry
O f ordeals, oppressions, over joyfulness
E ntreating, enticing, exciting entries
T elling the tales told through time
R ich rhyming romance, riddles and rib-ticklers
S avouring sensual seductive spaghetti soup
O n lookers ovations of one-upmanship
U niting us in ultramodern, understanding of
Copyright © Sidney Hall Mad Poet
Big busted Betty
Dressed her Double D’s
Using uplifting underwire
Creating a costume of cleavage
Copyright © Rebecca Beirne
Which way wayward woman?
To tantalize, tempt and tamper?
Or open an avenue of sincerity-
Sacred, sinless, sane?
Copyright © Rhea Daniel Dear