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Long poem by Darryl Ashton | Details |

THE RETURN OF PETER PAN 2014

THE RETURN OF PETER PAN…2014  

And Introducing 
The arch enemy:
((Political Correctness and Health and Safety))

Ladies and Gentlemen: boys and girls. Peter Pan is set to strike again.

 
A sequel to J.M. Barrie’s classic tale will be published in the very near future, in which Tinkerbell will be replaced by a male fairy named Firefly, the Darling little children are all grown up, Neverland is blighted by pollution and Nana the dog, is sadly dead. 

Darryl Ashton has obtained this exclusive interview with Peter Pan to find out what went wrong. Peter says: “What has the world come to when someone like me is no longer allowed in children’s bedrooms? OK, so at first inspection things don’t sound too great.
I am someone who climbs secretly through children’s  bedroom windows. I have a friend called Tinkerbell who is, yes, a ‘Fairy’. The two of us tell the little Darlings’ to forget about their parents and come away with us on a big adventure to Neverland. But relax, will you! 
Looking’ back I guess my problems really began when I started planning this return trip to Britain after some 100 years. Do you know how hard it is for a guy like me to get the paper work together? By the time Childcare Agencies, Social Services and The Criminal Records Bureau had vetted me, the magic was wearing pretty thin, I can tell you.

Was I self – employed? Or were Tinkerbell and I in a VAT – registered partnership? Did I have a pilot’s licence, which met all compliance standards? Did I have the relevant Visa for tourists from Non – EU countries? Questions, questions! Don’t all these regulations get you down? Anyway, as Tinks and I soon came to discover, Britain has changed beyond all recognition in the years we have been away.
Our first discovery, much to our horror, was Wendy, and her brothers John and Michael, were some time ago taken into foster care. We learnt that their parents, who were in the habit of leaving them in the care of Nana the dog, had been stripped of access to the children.

TV crews chased Mr and Mrs Darling down the street and a police guard had to be placed outside their door to prevent vigilante gangs from attacking them. Well, that was all too much for Nana the dog who was carted off to an RSPCA hospital, where she was soon being seen by a strange Australian man with a beard and a didgeridoo, who said he could make her a star, on, Animal Hospital.  

Nana said she’d rather be put down, so after a quick call to an assisted suicide group called Dognitas, the old dear’s now pushing up the daises next to Shep in Blue Peter’s garden. Such a waste, she’d been trained by Norland, you know. 
But I don’t suppose that means much these days.

Unsurprisingly, the Darling children went rapidly down hill from there. Shunted from one foster home to another, they fell in with the wrong crowd. Before long, Michael was wearing a hoodie and worse, hanging out with Prince Harry’s lot. As for little John, without any proper father figure to look after him, he found solace in a new faith, changed his name to Sinbad, and was last heard of heading for the Afghan hills for a spiritual vacation. Which is why Wendy got back in touch with yours truly.

So with no one else left to help her, Wendy closed her eyes tight and sent a wish to her old mate Peter Pan. I must confess, when her message first popped up on my Blackberry, I winced. Is there nowhere the office can’t reach me these days? Even Neverland? So I made a few calls, and whaddya know? Hookie agreed to help me out. Yes, I know he’s a rogue and bounder who has polluted the whole of Neverland, after swapping the Jolly Roger for a fleet of turbo charged jet skis. 

Big mistake. We’d scarcely set foot in London before the anti – terrorism squad and Hookie was carted off to Belmarsh. You should have heard him shouting when they took him away! “I am Hook, one time bosom to Blackbeard. The only man to send a shiver up the wooden stump of, Long John Silver. The only consolation for the poor Captain was that the crocodile never made it through the security checks at Neverland Airport”. The other passengers heard that clock ticking in its belly and said they would not travel unless the croc was chucked off the flight.

As for Tinkerbell, no sooner had she returned to her old haunts than a gay rights group called Stonewall said it was totally unacceptable for her old name to be retained. When asked for an explanation, they just threw their eyebrows to the ceiling, sucked in their lips like lemon quarters and gasped: Firely was so much more ‘now’. They even wanted Tinks to change her gender, but we’re still negotiating on that. The Elf’s trade union is pretty sticky on that sort of alteration.

The fairy costumes had to go too, something to do with stereotyping. But when I showed Tinks her new thong, her little pilot light went out altogether, and I’m afraid no amount of Polish plumbers can get it started again. So now I’m stranded and alone, with only my shadow for company. Even Wendy has cut off contact after getting a six – figure deal to appear on a Celebrity show---get me out of here! All of this I can tell you, is incredibly upsetting.

What has happened to Britain these days? I know Neverlands not perfect, but it’s a place where time stands still – and innocence is preserved and I like it that way. Today’s inspectors and officials all say that they’re only interested in protecting children. But by imagining the worst of people they are only wrecking the very innocence they presume to defend.

As I was telling the tooth fairy the other day: “You know Gums, sometimes I wonder if childhood itself is vanishing”. And do you know what she said in reply: “Sorry Pete, I’ve gone private. If you want a consultation, you’ll have to pay up front”.
How about ‘Pay – as – you – go? Sorry Pete, it’ll Neverland!


BY
DARRYL ASHTON                                                      

                                        


Long poem by Brian Johnston | Details |

Driving Alone Through the Sand Hills of Nebraska

My love is light (a fairy kiss?)          
               Like the pressure of sunbeams on your cheek, 
        Ineffable, and yet capable of changing lives…
		Darkening skin to a more attractive hue, 
		Pushing spaceships to distant stars (given time) , 
		Even causing cancer given sufficient lack of love for self.
        For love is not about just getting needs met by another, 
        No, love is more like a laser's coherent beam….
                For in reflecting back a portion of what is given, 
                The power of what is being created grows
                Until it can cut through the hardest steel
        And span the gulf between galaxies.

Poetry too grows through the cross-fertilization of newborn lines, 
        The lines of this poem insist that I record their birth.
 	        Each new line grabs me by the scruff of the neck, 
		       Forces me to hit the brake, grab my pen, 
		       And claim it in my family bible…
	        My only children, clamoring to be set in ink.
         As these Voyagers' pass into the present state of my art
                (Some that I barely recognize in their profligate parentage
	               Of older verse's new verse's newer verse still)          …
		               Somehow still carriers of my own genetic code.
                They press my design against the blank page
	                Flying in search of, homing on… your heart.
 
My love's intent is simply truth (do you want less?)          
	 Would you have me downplay 
	 	The warmth of our connection
                        Because it is complicated by here-to-fore
			        Unacknowledged passion, spiritual connection, 
			        And the remnants of former relationships
			        (Even those still gasping for breath) ? 
		        Or feign a lack of attachment to it's denouement
			         In a solitary attempt to feel safer? 
	 No matter can restrain the effects of gravity
		On the orbits of other bodies in its field of influence, 
		 	Gravity that binds us all in deep wells of space-time.

 Your kiss of greeting…
	After so many years of imagining such a possibility, 
	Imprinted deeper than even my memory of our first meeting, 
		Our moonlit shadows touching as we soaked naked
		In the steaming waters of a volcanic mountain spring.
	This new conjunction of souls occurred in God's clear view, 
		Without artifice or scheming on our part
			And rocked my inner core to it's depths, 
	Organizing molten currents of confused turbidity
	Into a magnetic flare of such intensity
		That iron flew to my spine
	Inspired me to finally declare my love
		To acknowledge your impact on my life…
	And after a period of gestation
		Gave birth to this poem of celebration.

 Back to Nebraskan reality and a new mystery…
	I pass an overturned car, 
		Its wheels tied by yellow police tape, 
	A metaphor for my life perhaps
		'Damaged but still salvageable.'
	The windows are broken out, 
		The occupants removed to a distant hospital somewhere
			(Hopefully arriving alive) , 
		Their odds and ends of life scattered like garbage
			On the inverted ceiling of their car.
	The explanation, perhaps, is the water still standing
		Several inches deep on the road side near the wreck? 
	A sudden orgasmic release of cloud in a desert….
		The car tops the hill to find the highway
			Buried by a lake of dimensions only God can know.
		Who would expect such a thing in Nebraska's sand hills? 

And what does it say about me finally
	That I am so drawn to distant objects, 
        That the two women given access to my heart are
		Both still tied to failed marriages
			By dark chapters I am not part of
			And innocent children who need their love? 
	And at our age where is the partner without a past? 

 Is this all that God has planned for you and me, 
	That we 'just miss' every thirty years or so? 
		I know there are times I am afraid to trust another's love, 
			Cannot even hear words of genuine affection.
		Perhaps this explains my attraction to women
			Whose availability might really be in question? 
		Maybe I'm afraid to let a real lover in? 
			Is the simple dream of love a better choice
				Than the chance of finding real love anew
				(Even love with an expiration date) ? 
		I think I'm more distrustful of my own heart's passion
			Than I am of women being unreceptive to my love.
		Do you struggle with similar feelings? 
	And is it my lot to only remember passion like this in a poem
		While you spiral away to unimagined rendezvous'? 

The coldness of space is not after-all
		The simple absence of heat…
	No, in human dimensionality it is more the absence of others…
		Others who both shine life force toward us
			And reflect our own light back to us, 
		Who collide with us physically and emotionally
			Altering our pathways forever, 
				And who crater the façade whose design
				We imagine belongs to us alone.
	The void of human space-time is a true 'black hole'
		Sporting only star death fragments of the 'Big Bang.'
 
This is all I really know…
	I treasure the memory of our 'fly-bys'
		Even if that's all they ever are.
	And if I'm lucky this joy, 
                This celebration of your existence, 
	Will continue to pour out of me in songs and verse…
		For your ears always (if I am so honored) , 
			For God's heart (as I was born to honor Him) , 
	And to the stars alone if I have only them for company.

Brian Johnston
August 2009
     
This poem, like 'A Walk Near Blunt, ' began during an actual drive from South 
Dakota to Oklahoma and then took on a life of it's own. These 'real life 
narrative' poems are part of an attempt on my part to give precedence to truth 
and content over form and rhyme. For readers with an interest in science, I 
hope you also enjoy my attempt in this and other poems to bring my love of 
Physics into the world of poetic imagery.


Long poem by William J. Jr. Atfield | Details |

Nowhere Man

Nowhere Man

Star dust, the stuff of a fool’s dreams.
Oh !!!, to travel upon star dust streams
- that glorious, never ending journey -
into the realms, the space of many.

This old spirit, seems, not to fit into any
mold nor on any rung of the social latter, 
that, I think, should not, ever matter. 
And so I have to wonder ?, 
as upon this planet, I wander.

Is there any place for me ?, 
where I might fit in – one day to see ?
In my youth, some perceived me to be 
Sall Minnio, even the King, 
- Elvis Presley, - this idea girls would bring
with them, in their pursuit of me.

As an adult, I came to be seen
– an Italian, a Greek, a Mexican – 
a First Nations is what I’ve been 
as folks do the best they can.
As people guessed at my race, 
looking and looking into my face,
the essence, the spirit, the soul of this man.

Yet nowhere do I fit - I belong to no place.
Nowhere do I find a fitting space
for this German, French, British, Native, 
gene pool, my heritage doth give. 
Plus the few – long forgotten – more 
that came through the genetic door 
– open for viewing the heart of this old soul – 
where there is reflection and getting to know.

There have been some who would pass 
this face of many – this face of looking glass 
refraction – to see truth – a Redman’s blood in the veins 
of this First Nation soul – the spirit which remains
for this old soul, the essence of my spirit, 
even in times when many would not tolerate it.
And so, it is not a wonder 
why this soul seems to flounder, 
cannot find anything sounder,

between the jagged, ragged edges 
of created, keen, sharp - wedges 
between who and what I am, and
where it is I could possibly stand.
There is not – it seems to me – a place
where I fit in, can stand, turn and face, 
see a possible niche – a place to belong,
before, my life is almost gone,
as I look back upon all the roads, 
- the stories, the tales, the heavy loads –

I have travelled, yet know not what will be told
of what rung, on the social ladder I hold,
what plateau to find shelter in ?,
what plane to fly above, be comfortable in ?,
what place to rest my spirit, my soul within ?,
what space can I find to forget all the sin ?
I have walked with the sane and insane.
I have talked with the educated and uneducated.
I have been in the company of intelligence and unintelligent.
I have laid with the secure and the insecure.
I have laid with passion’s fire and frigid’s cold.

I have known the moral and the immoral.
I have known those of faith and the faithless
I have known the killed and the killer
I have known those who have taken their own lives
I have known the givers and the takers
I have known the movers and the shakers
I have known the honest and the dishonest
I have known the psychic and the blind. 
I have known the truth sayers and the bullshitters,
The fast lane, the slow lane, the middle lane I’ve moved in.
The sober, the drunkard – I’ve been and been with.
The strong, the weak – I’ve been and been with.

The used, the abused  – I’ve been and been with. 
The users and the abusers -- I’ve known and know me.
The wealthy, the poor – I’ve known and know me.
Financial wealth and Spirituality -- I’ve known and know me.
The saver of a life -- I’ve known and was me.
The living and the dead -- I’ve known and know me.
Having a brush with artists has been my fate. 
Having acted up with entertainers has been my fate. 
Having had words with writers has been my fate.
Having become a rhymer, like my forth cousin, has been my fate.
I have played with players – strummed a note or two.
I have laid with singers-- sung a note or two.
I have laid with dancers – danced a step or two.

I have struck an arc alongside a welder – a time or two.
I have sprayed painted cars alongside a painter – a time or two.
Hammering out metal with body men – I have done.
Twisting wrenches with mechanics – I have done.
Busining along side business men – I have done.
Being a lover, I always thought, was my forte.
Being a husband, I thought I knew how to play.
Being a father, I thought I knew I would stay.
Being a friend, I thought was always my way.
To be a son – a child’s dream.
To be a brother – not to be it seems
as all the above drifts downstream,
leaving one to wonder, what life really means ?
Life’s journey can be a wondrous mystery !,
 
when one leafs through the pages of his history.
One’s life can also be a disastrous story ?, 
one of little hope, dim light and no glory.
So what is left for this old fool ?, 
but to carry on breaking the old rule, 
rules that make it possible to call oneself a poet, 
something I never call myself, a poet, and I know it !
I do the best I can
That is who I am !
Being a carny – traveling with The World’s Finest show.
For a couple of seasons – that is all I did know.
Being a dishwasher, a server, a busboy, a waiter, a manager 
of a restaurant, many dimensions of life. I was egger  
to come into contact with, to try and understand. 
As fate would have it, understanding never came to this hand.

Today, a bum – forty eight years ago – father said
“ the best dressed bum in town ” would be my stead.
What goes around – at some point in time – comes around.
There is some truth to this, that I have certainly found.
Even though I have touched the edges of many a life. 
Many places, pieces of each and everyone, not one has been 
a place for me, a place I felt I belonged, the places I’ve seen
do not leave pillows for my spirit,  beds to rest my soul, rife
with uncertainty, is my state, almost every day
I can find no place, no space for me to play.
Looking into this distorted collage 
I wonder if it is but a mirage ?
My flaws lie in the heart of my feeling !, it is my sin !,
this belief that there is no place, no space where I fit in.

B. J. “A” 2
May 1st 2004


Long poem by Mario DE PAZ | Details |

Dante's Divine Comedy Hell translation Canto VII

(Continuing the trip through Hell of Dante with poet Virgilio)

Pah-peh Sah-tan, Pah-peh Sah-tan al-ept!”,
Started Pluto with his hoarse voice toss
And that gentle wise, who any knowledge kept,

Told to encourage me: “don’t have a loss 
By your fright: since any power has he,
Shall not forbid us this rock down to cross”.

Then he turned to that face swollen to see,
And told him: “You have to shut up, wolf damn!
To consume  your rage in yourself agree.

A good why there is to go in this dram:
It is willed up there, where Michael just
Could the wild pride with revenge lam”

Like the ship canvas by blowing wind thrust
Fall totally wrapped, when breaks down the mast
So fell to ground the cruel monster bust.

So we got down in the fourth circle vast,
Of the mournful bank then achieving more
Where every sin of universe is massed. 

Ow divine justice! Where find anymore
New travails and pains as the ones I saw?
And why our fault reduces us so sore?

Like a wave does over Cariddi raw
Crashing on that which meets while rebounding,
So here people fights for a tragic flaw.

Here people was more than else abounding,
On one part and the other, with high screams,
With hard back force just heavy weights rounding.

Jostled each other; and after in such reams
Each one turned around, then rounding back,
Screaming: “Why do you hold? And “Why joke themes?”.

So they were turning in the circle black
From every side to the opposing side,
Shouting in turn with their ribaldry thwack;

Then each one turned again, when to end lied,
Through his half circle to the opposing end.
And I, with my heart in pain almost tied, 

Told: “My master, now you some word expend
About these guys, and if clergy where  all
These with tonsure who stay at our left trend”.

And he to me: “All had of blindness fall
In their minds during their previous life,
That money spent or save with restraint small.

Too much their voice barks with clear strife,
When they reach the two parts of circle round
Where are unpaired when odd faults are rife.

These were clerics, who are not crowned
With top hairs, popes and cardinals as well,
Whose greedy stinginess had to abound”

And I: “Master, among these who here fell
I should be able to recognize some guys
Who for certain failed in these sins for hell”.

And he to me: “In vain this hope can rise:
Their shameful life that made them to be dirt
Renders beyond recognition their guise.

Eternally these two will fight and hurt:
These ones will rise again from their tomb
With closed fist, the others with hairs curt.

Bad giving and bad holding gave them doom
To lose the heavens, forcing them to fight:
Without any regard, for other words no room.

Now you can see, my dear, how much is tight
The use of goods which with Fortune come,
To which the human beings commit quite; 

Since of existing gold and too the sum 
With ancient one, of all these weary souls
What tempers their hunger could not become”.

“My master”, then  I told, “tell me the roles 
Of this Fortune which you evoked to me,
What is it, which so the world’s goods controls?”.

And he: “Ow humans fool to high degree,
So much ignorance is offending you!
Now with my sentence you must just agree.

The one whose knowledge transcends any view,
Created heavens and a guide them gave
In order to any place the shine ensue,

An even dealing out of light to save.
Similarly with the human shines he made
Titling general minister, guide brave

Who could exchange goods of any vain grade
From people to people and among breeds,
The adverse will of humans to dissuade;

Thus one people grows faint and other leads,
Fortune judgment to follow  they are  bound,
Which is as occult as a snake in weeds.

Your knowing can make to her no rebound
She provides, judges, and pursues as well
Hers reign as do other gods being crowned.

Hers changes are then frequent and impel:
She must for necessity have great speed;
Is frequent who succeeded to excel. 

She is the crucified often indeed
Even by the ones who should her commend,
Her giving blame with fault and bad read;

But she is blissful and does not intend:
With other prime creations has delight
Turns hers sphere  and is joyful with no end. 

Now almost we descend to major blight;
Any star then already falls which rose
When I first moved, and delay isn’t right”.

We cut the circle  at the else bank close
Over a seething water source to spill
Into a ditch deriving from its flows. 

Water was darker than its dirt to fill;
And we, following the course of waves dark,
Went below through a different way still.

In the so called Stix quagmire as a mark
Goes then this wicked stream, when it went down
To the grey beaches evil to remark.

And I, while closely was looking around,
Saw muddy people down in that morass,
Were naked all of them, with an aspect frown. 

These one to other hit with hands in mass,
But with head and with breast and with feet too,
With teeth cutting each other in contrasts.

The good master told: “My dear son now you
See just the souls of those by anger won;
And I would also like that you sure knew

That underwater sighing still goes on,
Which then makes  this water boiling on top,
As your eye can tell you wherever spun.

Steeped down in slime they tell: “Our faulty drop
Had place in sweet air where is happy sun,
We brought with us a very slothful flop:

We are now with gloom in the black sludge spun”. 
This anthem they are gurgling in the throat,
Since any full word from them can’t outrun”.

So then we turned around the dirty moat
A long way, between the pond and dried bank,
Looking guys in mud cramming and no float.

We reached then a tower back foot from flank 


Long poem by J. W. M. Earnings | Details |

Used As An Experiment

Used As an Experiment

THE SILENCE IS BREAKING MEEEE….CAN’T YOU SEE?


V.1: Strong AS STEEL, wrapped up with silver, heartfelt ribbons
Give it to me – the rope of hope
You smoked me out like a cigarette…
Used like I’m an experiment…I mope…I mope…
I’ve been ruined a thousand times
Yet, I stayed strong – I never cried a tear

(pre-chorus)
You’re getting by – I’ll let you through and go ahead and commit your 
crimes!
I have no fear in my young heart…I don’t bottle up fear
And I ain’t gonna shed a tear for you 
I’ll keep searching for the light with or without you
(pre-chorus)
You’re getting by – I’ll let you through and go ahead and commit your 
crimes!
I have no fear in my young heart…I don’t bottle up fear
And I ain’t gonna shed a tear for you 
I’ll keep searching for the light with or without you

(chorus)
What am I supposed to do? 
Your hate internalized in me…
Don’t ask me to change – I sift out every single lie
Because I won’t stop believing in the Lord Most High
I burned in the dense flames, 
I churned…in the ocean of blames…
Remorse, calling me names

V.2: I bleed…you were my disease once upon a time
Visiting rehab in my head…
Addicted to you like a drug…
Abused and moved by you….
I don’t care about me anymore…
Disaster unfolds, trapped in your scorching RIBCAGE…
Restoring rage….you called me hideous names behind your breath
I’m like an absurd bird, longing to fly out of her cage
Now, I get you…I get your motives of abandoning me…. 
You neglected me…you stubborn, attention-seeker
You never listened to my acknowledging complements 

(pre-chorus)
You’re getting by – I’ll let you through and go ahead and commit your 
crimes!
I have no fear in my young heart…I don’t bottle up fear
And I ain’t gonna shed a tear for you 
I’ll keep searching for the light with or without you

(chorus)
What am I supposed to do? 
Your hate internalized in me…
Don’t ask me to change – I sift out every single lie
Because I won’t stop believing in the Lord Most High
I burned in the dense flames, 
I churned…in the ocean of blames…
Remorse, calling me names

V.3: You ditched me with heartless selfishness in your heart – you’re a 
devil! 
Your lips soaked up the poison in your heart…it cements
Deep inside of you…deep down inside…
Wait for me, so I can keep up with you…
I don’t care about me anymore…
Disaster unfolds, trapped in your RIBCAGE…
Restoring rage….burning wild like wild sage…
I’m like an absurd bird, longing to fly out of his cage
Don’t discard me – give your heart a break
Don’t hurt me – for Mount Heaven’s sake!

(pre-chorus)
 You’re getting by – I’ll let you through and go ahead and commit your 
crimes!
I have no fear in my young heart…I don’t bottle up fear
And I ain’t gonna shed a tear for you 
I’ll keep searching for the light with or without you

(chorus)
What am I supposed to do? 
Your hate internalized in me…
Don’t ask me to change – I sift out every single lie
Because I won’t stop believing in the Lord Most High
I burned in the dense flames, 
I churned…in the ocean of blames…
Remorse, calling me names

V.4: Loving you ain’t easy, that’s for shore…we never were a fine pair (you 
only lived for your own satisfactions)
Blameworthy – I seem to be these days
Get up from the ground and think better about your actions (For all I’ve 
stood for, you were never appreciative…I swam lonely in the pool of misery 
and despair)
Next time, leave the front door…
I’ve been wandering in the maze of bewilderment
Find your own way out of my labyrinth of lament
Dare to wonder where I’ve been?
In the cave of sin…caved in by sin…
Getting devoured in the lion’s den…

(pre-chorus)
 You’re getting by – I’ll let you through and go ahead and commit your 
crimes!
I have no fear in my young heart…I don’t bottle up fear
And I ain’t gonna shed a tear for you 
I’ll keep searching for the light with or without you

(chorus)
What am I supposed to do? 
Your hate internalized in me…
Don’t ask me to change – I sift out every single lie
Because I won’t stop believing in the Lord Most High
I burned in the dense flames, 
I churned…in the ocean of blames…
Remorse, calling me names

V.5: I don’t care anymore…
Disaster unfolds, trapped in your RIBCAGE…
Restoring rage…burning bright like a star with a tattooed scar
It feels so wrong to be in the dark, so far…so far…
Away from your charms…your warm, cuddly arms…
So far, I’ve been digging deep in your soul…
Anxiety banging at my skull…skull…
In my mind and heart again
Forget and forgive 
Feed the flames of uncertainty
You don’t deserve to die or live
Where shall I flee? Free me…

(pre-chorus)
 You’re getting by – I’ll let you through and go ahead and commit your 
crimes!
I have no fear in my young heart…I don’t bottle up fear
And I ain’t gonna shed a tear for you 
I’ll keep searching for the light with or without you
(pre-chorus)
 You’re getting by – I’ll let you through and go ahead and commit your 
crimes!
I have no fear in my young heart…I don’t bottle up fear
And I ain’t gonna shed a tear for you 
I’ll keep searching for the light with or without you

(chorus)
What am I supposed to do? 
Your hate internalized in me…
Don’t ask me to change – I sift out every single lie
Because I won’t stop believing in the Lord Most High
I burned in the dense flames, 
I churned…in the ocean of blames…
Remorse, calling me names

V.6: Yet, I stayed strong – I never cried a tear
I’ve been ruined a thousand times
Used like I’m an experiment…I mope…I mope…
You smoked me out like a cigarette…
Give it to me – the rope of hope
On my own, feeling like I don’t belong – wrapped up with blue, heartless 
ribbons


THE DISTRESS ABYSS IS SUCKING ME UP – RELEASE MEEEEE….


Long poem by J. W. M. Earnings | Details |

Inception: Trade Me Prosperity - Collab with Mikey part 4

Blossoming 
Effulgent sun proffers love 
Clambering… 
My brain makes me wonder if you remember the times shared
Back to the blessed times, I recall that you would listened, be worried about me, and, at the time, you cared
We’re running out of time again…
And I’m still searching for you – where have you gone?
Let our journeys of love begin – let’s welcome the sun…
Let the fire of desire burn on…I want to see you shine on…
Let this be our delightful dawn…
Now, I’m wondering where you have been…
I want to belong in your arms…
I don’t want to be deceived by evil charms
It alarms me to see you depart like the clouds during the gloomy morning
I catch a glimpse of you all of the sudden, mourning bitterly... Why are you forlorning?
Ascending
Above the undergrowth…of
Thorns and weeds
Your river of deceit leaks out… now, I can clearly see
Your true colors…you resurrected radiance in the eyes of millions…and you allowed me to escalate with ecstatic eagerness and enjoyment, much like a satisfied, well-watered tree…nurtured by sunlit glee 
I never thought that this all could be
You push me to become like all felons
Possibly, doubt slipped into my mind and traded me with prosperity in the hands of tragedy
Nothing can harm us...We're on the same bus…my misery and yours, together, weigh a trillion tons
You killed my trust and hope…and fed your twisted honesty
Our bittersweet chorus of lies and miseries sings its tune of tainted lullabies
Move on once again we must…or we’ll be targeted by calamity 
I know you hear me, but you ignored my silent cries…oh darling, how the time flies…
Oh please, darling angel, fix me, for I am a wrecked-up bicycle – never wave your 
Misery-laced goodbyes…cut it out before it devours us with utter distress!
For you, I am now saddened and try to untie myself from this mess…
As my love and hope for you slowly but surely dies,
Sift out the vile lies and don’t ask your whys
I still hear your wistful cries
You relied on the Lord of the Flies
And you engrossed him…now, he draws near to you because you enchanted him with your miraculous powers…I was spell-bound and gravity-bound in the chambers of alienation while you were showing off your capacities…I thought it cool until I saw your wicked ways…I was never wise, but a young fool! 
You say it’s a natural gift that’s used as a priceless, grand tool…but, now I know that YOU are so cruel 
Your wrongful sins – your mind can’t wrap itself around it…it still denies
As my racing thoughts keeps asking those ridiculous whys
I tried my hardest to protect you from your own mistakes…leave the past behind you
Don't let me go; please...I know our time is almost up
Don't cut me off...don't rage wars in your mind...suicidal fatality stuffed your mind with plastic relief...
It will bring grief upon us...so, don't say those words...
Tell me one thing before you go away forever leaving me in grief
I'm hanging on the branches...tomorrow is way too far away...let's embrace our young spirits
Like dying angels we fly away apart like birds
YOU shattered me with thoughtless words...the beat of your heart...is thumping so absurd...releasing herds (of distress and stress and pushing me back in my emotional mess)
You once were my heart’s dearest tune; now, my heart has turned into a prune
You're so far...yesterday's tomorrow shines on like a star...
I was the shining sun and you the beaming moon; soon, I will unwrap my fresh, majestic wings and soar straight out of my cocoon 
Furtively
The moon unravels wonders
Glimmering  
Dream on, wherever you are – I’m the dusk and you’re the dawn…where are you now? Have you driven to another lane, super fast car?
You once owned my mind and heart…I was smitten by your blessed breeze
Nightmares will fade and something else will allow us to be at ease 
He will, with a heart of love, heal your scar…that’s in the core of your heart…
You pushed me way too far – I tried to twinkle bright like your midnight star, but I broke apart
Right now, let's do what we should've started long ago
Give me a scar that I can show
We got right now...we're running out of time...go with the flow...of the blessed breeze...and be marinated in the sun's glow
To remind me to save myself from what I thought was bliss before we both must go
There's no use of crying nor is there any excuses for lying
In the back of my mind, I knew this day would come upon me – I was scared (out of my wits)
Now, I stand here like I always do, but my soul you have scarred (I was so unprepared…we were breaking bit by bit and we threw our childish fits)
Like nothing ever happened to me or you, 
You moved on and on with your life without ever thinking of me
I loathe the thought of you forgetting about me out of the blue
I’ve emphasized about what you’ve been through…why do you have to be so cruel?
You used me as an inadequate, worthless tool and you stepped all over me like a mat...my love fuel
That I’ve kindled just for you…burnt out due to discouragement and insecurity…
You will always be unforgotten in my memory…
It makes me upset to think about you leaving me broken…
I already know that you hardly ever think highly of me
No wonder you left me broken in streets of L.A. – I’m rotting like an ancient tree 
You left me to wither and grow rancid like a long forgotten tree with burden leaves, hanging on my limb-like branches that grow ecstatically for eternity
Withering away…like the day, bowing down to the night…I’m decaying ever more inside and outside
I have been corrupted and changed by you tears you have shed – I’ve been by your side; why are you so depressed? Why can’t I mend your shattered pride?


Long poem by Mario DE PAZ | Details |

Dante's Divina Commedia translation Canto VIII

I tell, to follow, that long trait before
We reached the  back foot of the tower tall,
Our eyes went up to the top core

For two little flames we saw install,
And another responding from so far
That barely I perceived being so small.

And I turned my face to the full sense star:
I told: “What does this mean? and what reply
Gives then the other flame? And those who are?” 

And he: “Above the dirty waves and by
You can perceive already what to expect,
If the fume of the swamp does not deny”.

Rope never pushed an arrow to eject
Which faster and thin too rushed out through air
As I saw a shorty boat well direct

Through water toward us with no compare,
Under the drive of just one only oar,
Who shouted: “Now you arrived soul unfair!”

“Flegiàs, Flegiàs, useless is shouting your”
Told then my lord, “It’s only this time now:
Once crossed the marsh you’ll never see us more”

Like the one who listens a great false vow
Which he undergoes, and regrets then,
So was Flegiàs owing rage to allow.

My guide entered now the boat on the fen,
And then he let me enter after him;
So it looked fully loaded once again .  

After my guide and I were on wood grim,
Cutting across just goes the ancient bow
The water even more than used to trim. 

While we were running in the deadly flow,
In front of me then came a muddy man,
Who told me: “Who are you coming here now?”

And I: “If I come, to remain don’t plan;
But who are you, so unsightly to see?”.
Answered: “You see  that I just grieve for ban”.

And I to him; “With mourn and of  tears  sea,
You damned spirit, now you can stay on still;
I know you, even though  dirty you be”.

Then he aimed both hands to the board until,
So that my mindful master then pushed him,
Telling: “Get off from here, stay there, damned will!”

And then with arms he cuddled my neck rim;
Kissed my face, and told me: “Disdainful core,
Blessed woman who gave you birth with vim!

That guy was a person proud in his life yore;
Kindness you don’t find recalling his acts:
So his soul is here angry as before.

Plenty of people up like  king enacts
And here after as swine in mire shall stay
Leaving of themselves just horrible facts!”. 

And I: “Master, I would have happy play
If I see him to plunge into this slush
Before that from this lake we get away”.

And he to me: “Before ending our rush
To reach the bank, you full sated will be:
You must enjoy along your wish to hush”. 

After short while the torture I could see
Performed by people lying in that mire,
To God much praise and thanks go still from me. 

All screamed: “To Filippo Argenti dire!”;
And the Florentine spirit queer indeed
In his own body flesh sunk his teeth spire.

Here we left him, and no more words I need;
But in my ears I felt a beating pain,
Which made me cross eyes forward as my deed.

The good master told: “My dear, get again,
Now the city called Dite is getting close
With grievous citizens,  many restrained”

And I: “ Master, its towers already shows
There in the valley distinctly I see,
Vermillion like from fire just arose

Now”. And he: “the eternal fire sea
Which is burning inside makes them so red,
As in this base hell you can see to be”

We then inside the deep ditches were led
Which corrugate that disconsolate land:
And looked of iron made the walls ahead.

Not without moving around a turn grand,
We reached a place then where the helmsman strong
“Get out”, shouted: “Here is the entry stand”.

I saw more than thousand coming along
As poured from above, who with nasty huff
Told: “Who is this one of the living band

Who goes around the kingdom of deads gruff?” 
And my sage master then motioned to me
He aimed to them speak  secretly enough.

Then they reduced a bit their disagree
And told: “Come you alone, and he must go
Being in this reign entered of scare free. 

He must get back alone the street so fow:
Let him try, if able: you remain here,
Who guided him in this land without glow”.

Think, reader, how much I had then to fear
While hearing the sound of those words so damn,
Because I thought I couldn’t be back clear.

“Oh dear guide, for seven times saved I am
By your help giving assurance to me
In high distress I encountered as a dram,

Don’t abandon me”, I told, “without lee;
And if to pass it is denied beyond,
Let us find our path backward to fast flee”

And that lord who guided me there so fond,
Told me: “Don’t be afraid, because our stride 
Nobody can stop: from so high gets bond.

But wait me here now, and your spirit tied
Encourage strongly and feed with hope good,
Since I will not leave you in this world bide”.

So went away, and abandoned I stood,
My sweet father then leaving me in doubt,
So yes and no to fight in me then could.

I did not  hear what he to them gave out;
But he did not remain with them long time,
To observe that all in turn left the bout.

Closed the doors those people faulty of crime
Against my lord breast, who remained outside
And came back to me so slow as to climb.

The eyes to ground and lashes had to hide
Any pride, and telling sighs in between:
“Who the sorrow houses now me denied! 

And to me “You, if I am not serene,
Don’t dismay, since I shall the battle win,
No matter which against us be the screen. 

This arrogance of their not new has been;
They used it for a door secret much less,
Which without any lock is still therein.

On  that you saw of dead write the impress:
And on this side descends the terrain steep,
Then passing through the circles with no stress,

So for him the ground be open to sweep”


Long poem by Desheya Swaby | Details |

Part 1: Confusion of the muse

The large, bright Winter moon shone it's heavenly light over and out amongst the snow-covered city. The city was large, the city was noisy. It was midnight and the bustling still urged on. People ached for a screaming, gangs clutched for their money, the elderly walked the icy sidewalks alone and or in couples; such a beautiful sight it was. At the very top of the Empire State building, a young-looking woman with ivory, glowing skin slumped her spine up against one of the boxed structures set over, preferably the corners. Her eyes glimmered with a soft red shine in them, her gaze was holding and even dangerous but yet a calmness instilled in her body, instilled in her soul. She was confused, she was.. What was the emotion long forgotten? She pushed her head up against the upper part of the ventilator before closing her eyes lazily, then did she turn her head, watching the moon pester her with it's large size. She rolled her head a moment. "Why do these feelings still exist? Why does unhappiness set the mood? The consecrated belief of this form was for the lovely destiny of being what I am now.." Her long, wavy hair danced with the cold breeze that swept in her direction. She found herself entranced in the lustrous sphere, floating there in the confines of the atramentous skies, dotted with sparkling partners.
As she sighed, her breath came in a swirl of thick fog. She felt no cold, she felt no warmth. She just felt sick.

Suddenly, as if everything stopped in the undeniable present of the moment, the sound of civilization cut off completely. Not a honk was heard, not a gunshot was sounded, not even the wind that whispered to her so dreamily could tell her secrets now. There was a presence. A strong presence, and a voice; a deep, rough voice;
"Child, have you not learned? Have you no shame? Have you no comprehension to the reasons of your being?"
It was a male's voice and it was most familiar out of a lot of voices, she heard it so much that sometimes, she thought herself to lose even her own infernal sanity. If she lost that, all hope was lost for her soul to linger somewhere as it did now. The woman turned around, folding her arms over her breasts as she did so, her eyes set upon a large silhouette that hid within the shadow of one of the large ventilators behind her. The male stepped out from the shadow, staring over her with spine-shattering, shimmering crimson irises. He stood six foot nothing and had long white hair just as she possessed. His jaws were squared out and his chest was large. "I have but more shame than you may know, but, in general, do you know too much.." She frowned. The man smirked only slightly to where it wouldn't even be considered a half smile or any in relation. "You're unhappy. You're dissatisfied. When clearly, you are to be neither. You have been a Devil of Dis for some time now and I think, perhaps, it's time for you to control it."

It was only their voices and behind their voices and words were soft echos. As every city commotion went on down below, as the lights flashed and cars crashed, nothing seemed like reality to her anymore, not even in her moments of thoughts. She was always being watched, no matter what. She couldn't feel shame. She never had that chance. She never had that chance to suffer the right way and die the right way as well. A faded memory of her Mother transitioned into her thoughts. She turned around, her back facing him now. She kept her arms crossed. She said nothing.

He walked up behind her before placing a single, large, talon-tipped hand upon her right shoulder, gripping firmly. His palm was warm. She didn't look up. "You fight with yourself.. Often and you know it all too well, girl." She could feel the gaze of his aura-seething eyes pierce into the back of her head. She parted her pale lips to speak; "I've got to find myself, I suppose. But, underestimate me not. It's harder than I've realized." Her back pushed up against his muscle-bound chest absentmindedly as she leaned into the fiery warmth of his massive form. The pit of her stomach felt as though it would close in on itself at any moment just not too long ago and now, it felt the growing ball of fire that set ablaze to her chest and overwhelming her beating heart. Hot breath caressed her slim jawline as she soon snapped from her flow of thoughts. She closed her eyes, nudging her body into his suddenly when she found herself facing him unexpectedly. Did she move here on her own?.. She let her head rest against his chest, his large hands running over her curved sides and behind, brushing his fingertips along her lower back with almost fervent passion before she tilted her head up, meeting up with his sharp structured face and the demand in his eyes, feeling the same breath brush over her face. The female fiend leaned up, placing her hands upon his broad shoulders and just as she tilted her head, brushing her lips over his own once. He disappeared.

In the same moment, her body posed in the same form just as if he was still there before she stepped back, her large, black wings folding up against her form. His voice rang through the air or her own air even before it entered into her subconscious, acting as such; "Act on your own, for I will be watching you..." And as his words faded into the soft echoes of tomorrow, the shuttering noises of New York followed in from soft to normal volume once again. She stared into the velvet skies, spying a single star that remained larger than the rest of it's comrades. She sighed softly, contemplating this.


Long poem by William J. Jr. Atfield | Details |

My Daughter The Need A walk from the dark side, into the darkness

My Daughter

My beautiful Daughter, walks life’s paths alone,
She does so, by design – not of hers – on her own.
She travels heavily !, from place to empty space,
from space to vacant place – in what kind of race?
A race towards where ?, towards what I do not know,
for, to me – an  age and place beyond – she does not show
where it is, - where she wants her future  to go
if ?, going anywhere – accomplishing - is a guiding
force in her life, seeking out, chasing after lightening.

There are times, when I hear, in my words
the sounds of need, – empty in their experience –
looking for some of what has been offered.
What has been offered, I see, it is not meant for me.

The Need

I keep being dragged back into this nightmare,
a nightmare ?, so I am lead to believe, could it be ?
Within the stories, the tone, I hear, I perceive it to be
but have to wonder ?, is it ?, really but a dream
that can find no reality on this plane , never comes true,
therefore it truly is !, becomes the nightmare.
In the words that tell, I see, I hear, I feel
the sword that plunges deep, with which to defend,
to destroy the foe – the lover – a man not to know
yet not forgotten, not left alone, not let go of.
He - the nightmare – is always there, he doesn’t care,
he is a rotting residue in, a part of life’s moments.
He is your nightmare, in your dreams, in every waking hour!
These sad eyes see, these sensitive ears, in pain, hear the pain,
this old heart feels, but this useless blade, – a knife that hides
within my, closed mouth – seems not able to cut away at the ties
that bind you to life’s strife – to the nightmare.
Could it be unfulfilled desires ?, unrealized dreams ?

What has taken forty nine life times to create,
might be attributed to nature, nurturing or fate,
but may not be digested, accepted, understood or dissipated.
Regardless of the words, the meaning, what else can be stated ?
I know that in forty nine hour days, my thoughts my feeling
will never find a way to reach out and touch a solid ceiling
and so, in my many words, in my actions, I pray
that it all can be set aside, and all can be put away.

A walk from the dark side, into the darkness.

Little, to nothing could this impotent old man / dad offer
his Child, his oldest Daughter, in so much need.
Nothing could he bestow upon his Child, or his lover,
with her insecurities, doubts, his insatiable greed,
and so, escape not, she walks along with his need
as it has been something he has decreed.
Oh !, how remiss to leave them on their own, to agree
to their coarse, a course that could take them on
to complete the journey they started, then gone.

Time, enough !, distance is past 
Time to stop !, turn around at last
and face what the outcome will be.
Open eyes, a new beginning to see.
May I leave sun set’s path, face the sun rise
coming through that black velvet screen before me
with it’s spattered, day-glow dots, all aglow
opening inner sanctum doors, allowing me to know.

Thoughts for me, alternative for them flash before my mind.
What will they do ?, am I being so unkind ?
Will one, the other or both be bussed back to Ontario ?
As I walk back to the room, I ponder the scenario ? 
Will we ( all three ) carry on with our little adventure
into the canyons and gorges, the city of all nights lights
– the city where angels never sleeps – I cannot be sure ?,
sure if they will end their – for my attention – fights.
Will we see the city ?, where one man built his fantasy,
walk among dreams brought to life, a fun reality 
of cartoon characters, animated for the child in us
or in the end, to Ontario on a Greyhound bus ?
Will we see stars ?, stars on a walk, in the city of angels
At this juncture, what will be the story one tells ?
Will the Golden Gate carry us ?, will we ride the hills ?,
on their steel rails, tell tales of all our thrills ? 
Will we end these moments in gods country ?, 
the city of the British, the salmon run, a hollow tree,
mountains, bays, bears, a Princess, poetess gone to ash,
her rhyme, this forth cousin of mine, they did stash,
hidden from obvious view, in the woods of Stanley park,
where few knew, and for a hundred years, lay in the dark.
Many know not where Native, folk lore doth reside ?
In her books, hand in hand and side by side,
along with as many nationalities as there are nations.
In this place, women brought to life her creations.

Before I leave this bleak walk, in the arms of this black night,
My thoughts are, hope that all will come out all right,
when one of those day glow dots, in that black velvet sky,
all a glow, took off, streaked south, caught my eye
as it crossed the heavens, fast as the speed of light,
in the pattern of a Zed, then disappeared from sight.

( Strange !!!, this speck of star light, it’s unusual flight
as it star-ts out from nothing, speeds south on a 
horizontal plane, pauses a split second, reverses direction,
drops down vertically, on an angle northward, towards a point
where it started out, again paused for a split second, then, 
on a horizontal plan, zipped south before disappearing into star,
in the starry back drop from whence it took life, for a moment. )

This story, – twenty five years old – in rhyme, comes to life,
for a brief moment, from a memories hoard, rife
with so many stories hidden from sight 
coming from rhyme - into light.

B. J.“A ” 2
May 30th 2002


Long poem by Poetryof Providence | Details |

The Forge

I remember the beach sand and swing
when you and mother were still something
I remember the ducks in the lake
you held my hand watching their wake
I remember the sheep dogs when the day was through
and the mornings grass all covered with dew
I remember the dead man and blood on the floor
my hand in my mothers as she went for the door
I remember the stairs I thought I’d fall through
and the building where she was hidden from you
she tried drowning me in the bath and the tub
her hands on my throat on the dining room rug
the pain of the walls where my body flew
the floor of the closet when she was through
I remember you entering the door
as you picked up my body from off the floor
the words were so ugly I’ve forgotten them now
but things haven’t changed much anyhow
I remember the willows and switches not few
a home not mine and the children were new
a string of families never seeming to end
the abuse and the beatings I’m not on the mend
I remember the the rage and the red flushed face
what did I do to fall from your grace
I remember the fear when I tried to hide
the man and the 2by4 when it hit my side
the bruise and welts with noone to care
my mother and father aren’t even there
I remember the family that took me in
they had no daughter just two young men
one boy was loving the other was slime
but the parents protected me most of the time
I was safe for awhile with nightmares not few
and some of my demons she helped to slew
I remember you taking me home at last
you had remarried some six months past
I remember the woman was cruel and mean
she remained that way till I was sixteen
At fifteen I had been already raped twice
the drugs and pills and the wrist yet to slice
I remember the police to the hospital sped
the straight jacket and thorazine I should have been dead
I remember the airplane that sent me away
with my half brothers mother I was to stay
my neck with a forearm pinned to the wall
my half brothers brother screaming he will have all
I remember the screaming as I flew down the stairs
his violence had caught me totally unawares
the pain as he smashed me on the walls of the hall
the kicks in the ribs after my fall
the nine months I walked in a state of fear
how I passed my classes is very unclear
I remember the man when I hitched into town
the car was a sedan of dirty brown
the doors had no handles no way to get out
he pulled out a knife and proceeded to shout
how he would cut me and make me bleed
if I didn’t fill some sort of need
how I grabbed the wheel for steering the car
when he slammed on the brakes down the road not far
when he slid out the door by the side of the road
it seemed to me that all time had slowed
he released me with curses not language unknown
from the cage of his car this bird had flown
I remember the man preaching justice and truth
but to find answers one must become sleuth
I remember the marriage and I made him swear
that to hit or harm me he must never dare
I remember the baby with curls of gold
by seventeen to marriage my father me sold
I remember the lapses of time I had lost
the forge of my youth and the price it had cost
the thread that kept me alive was so thin
in my mind it was always me against him
I remember the children that helped keep me sane
with some sort of focus with the man I had lain
I remember the striving for some sort of truth
what kind of a mother my children had in their youth
I remember it all so plain and clear
that violence from men will always be near
I swore at sixteen no child to have
if you couldn’t play safely with joy and a laugh
forgive me my children for bringing you here
the reasons I do things are sometimes not clear
My parents are gone and I do not mourn
but only for the life I was never shown
I did try to spare you the same kind of fate
I hoped that my love would be never to late
I had no control of the time or the chance
that injustice would look upon you with his glance
I raise my eyes to the heavens and vent to his name
to save all the children who are yet put thru shame
In a blast furnace my life has been forged
the tool of the hammer has formed my discourse
in molten metal I have been shaped
the tool of another I have not escaped
what of the purpose he hopes to hew
a piece of equipment all shiny and new
I remember my maker and the state of his grace
the road laid before me and the words of his face
the view of my nature he seeks to tame
with so many others who walk in the flame
in wails united to pull heaven down
and with its brightness scour the ground
his promise to do so has not yet passed
when all of mankind will feel his blast
the call has gone forth the meaning is clear
to give an accounting is so very near
those who think themselves high shall be made low
the dust of the earth their destined to know
the one that I follow has carved out the path
his star has shown brightly beneath thorn and the lash
I reach my arm forth to take hold his hand
to walk among humans woman and man
he paints a clear future for those of us all
a paradise lost to man in his fall

COPYRIGHT © 2009 C Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC

COPYRIGHT © 2009 C Michael Miller via Duboff Law Group LLC


Long Poems