I haven’t been okay
in a long time, Ma.
My smile is nothing more
than dirty shoes,
left outside the door
after a long day.
I dial your numbers
then silence swallows me.
My thumb press,
cancels before the call.
I want to speak,
to someone who knows
the language of my pain.
But I keep my cracks hidden,
Because little eyes are watching.
I stitch my voice with strength,
Pretend the weight is light,
So, my younger siblings
Never see me breaking.
When I went looking
For it today
I noticed that a certain Emoji
Has gone astray!
I thought I hadn't seen it,
Skipped past it and missed.
Several times I've searched
And it is not on my list.
It really comes to something
When out of your control,
On your own device,
An Emoji goes AWOL....
It's a funny looking thing
For its eyes are not placed
In a central position
But either side of its face!
With is mouth in shock,
It somehow got away
For I can't find it anywhere!
This Emoji went astray.
i dunno why
but have you ever come across a Somersetshire mob?
i'm talking squalls and screams in the night
sister of Satan stuff
i'm looking for people with a reputation for learning
and sobriety
will i find them?
i look through other alarms on my phone to see what they are called.
one reads, 'pretend to celebrate St. Crispian's Day'
i was intending to get in tons of balloons and pie
i saw the F1 movie and have recreated the press conference scene
in the kitchen. i am getting cheekier by the day.
Everything turned pale and went
Off the rails and far behind
Other people’s hell present
Pictures of another mind
Thoughts dart down like birds of prey
Human thoughts of endless peace
Still I’m living for today
Using my old bunch of keys
Desperately I miss your face
You define a fake from real
Seems I cease to be amazed
Tell me love what should I feel
For I see no crucial difference
Between houses with their walls
Between anything that stands
Between anyone who falls..
Our internet went out at 4:41 p.m. today
No problem I thought
No problem at all
The company was called
We received an auto-message
Severe outage in your area
Expect full power restored by 8 p.m.
It is now 7:37 p.m.
Twenty-three minutes to go
I thought it would be back on by now
Our TV sets do not work
Our I-pads are useless
Our computers are down
I cannot even type
Our A.I.’s cannot set a timer or tell us Bette Midler’s age
Every minute seems like an hour
We are impatiently waiting for the internet
A system we have relied upon for years
I cannot tell my A.I. to play a Johnny Cash song
I cannot ask it who Elizabeth Taylor’s first husband was
I stare at the big screen
In the corner it says “not connected”
Is the country under attack?
What if all the internets are down?
What if they never come back up?
It is 7:41 p.m.
Our internet has been down for three hours
Nineteen more minutes
I am gritting my teeth
Three hours seems like thirty years
I watch the clock go from 8:00, 8:17, 8: 42, it is now 9:25 p.m.
We do not have the Internet yet
I am inconsolable
I went walking with an angel
and entered heaven with a stride.
She came in through a window
and escorted me outside.
Her feet barely touched the ground.
Her hair gave the sun back its light.
Her form brightened and fluttered
as day changed into night.
Encircled in her presence,
I felt heaven in my heart,
and the smile with which she kissed me
gave my life a brand new start.
I went walking with an angel
and entered heaven with a stride.
Now my footsteps are accompanied
by my eternal bride.
Christopher M. Swan, “Song of Susan,” 2008
Was it a car or a cat I saw?
It zoomed by! I saw wheels~~not one paw!
Weird times, I’ve had ‘em.
Mad am I, madam?
My neighbor thought it was a macaw!
squirrel who hides treats went out in disguise
scrambling among other treaters, kind of a surprise
you have such a neat costume, I really like the hood!
This was stated by many children and my Uncle Goode
Uncle Goode told us about the squirrel and we had a laugh
We knew he was real, said my pal, a good-natured giraffe
But since he did not, we loved it that the squirrel pulled the wool.
That disguise which was terrific was his ultimate Halloween goal.
Gainesville Four went missing on Halloween Night 1974
Three friends and a mother of the youngest one, Fee Fore
Fee’s real name was Fiona, and she was a delight
As were her friends Char and Lynne who went missing that night
Though this was fifty-one years back, there has never been a trace
Whatever happened to these four, must have been erased.
Not a neck bone or a leg bone, a tooth or any DNA
Nothing has shown up of the women who went away
Their purses were found in the house, next to the front door
It is as if they were marched out, maybe by more than four
The parents of two of the girls left this earth without knowing
What happened to their daughters on Halloween that was snowing
There were no prints, because the snow melted by morning time
Their cars were in the driveway – red, black, blue and lime.
Gainesville Four have been missing for fifty-one years I’m afraid.
I wonder if they were taken by aliens out of this Everglade?
He came back home, not the same.
Still had his smile.
Still knew my name.
Something deep behind his eyes.
Locked the doors and dimmed his light.
We used to laugh at silly things.
Rough-edged jokes and stories told.
Now every joke just passes by.
Echoes of a life denied.
He said, “It’s nothing, just tired I am”
I just need time and “I’ll be grand”
I'd text, I'd call, then let it be.
Not knowing if he’d answer me.
We'd sit in silence now and then.
Me looking for my oldest friend.
But war had drawn a quiet line.
Between his haunted world and mine.
One morning came, he wasn’t there.
His bed still made, and room just cleared.
No note, no sign, no last goodbye.
Just empty spaces and questions why.
And still I walk the roads we knew.
Still laugh sometimes, he’d laugh too.
But every joy feels slightly bent.
Because I wonder where he went.
First year, I lived in Nelson Rockefeller’s room
Next year, in that of Doctor Seuss
Yet I never made a fortune
Or wrote a children’s book
My parents had to wonder
Where I learned to cook their goose
______________________________________________________
This is 100% true:
Dartmouth College is an elite 'Ivy Leage School',
like Harvard, Yale, Princeton, etc.
Freshman year, I lived in 401 Hitchcock, 'Nelly's room'
Sophomore year - 105 Gile, 'Theodor Gisell's room'
... And I became an underpaid English teacher. LOL.
by the way, it's very easy to hypnotise a chicken
they're very prone to hypnosis
but this was steel wheels stuff
voodoo lounge tour
with no security
arrested for drug possession
excess and abandon
i've never seen someone pack their bags so quickly
lengthy prison terms
nine days without a wink
this poultry moved to a chalet in montreux
a recipe for shepherd's pie
mike's beak, face, eyes and an ear were removed with
the hatchet blow
you've got the silver
Went on hunting with revolver and gun.
I was zealous and wished to have some fun.
Took snacks in haversack: Bread butter bun.
Leisurely walked, whistling: Took a turn.
Met roaring tiger and started to run.
Lost all enthusiasm and vigor.
Trembled as followed by dreadful tiger.
Yet to make a friendship, I was eager.
I was civilised but tiger was vulgar.
It didn't care but rushed to me in anger.
Got puzzled to confront danger.
I didn’t know, how to press the trigger.
Forward - backward : impossible to step !
Absolutely no way to escape !
End of the story ? Curious ?
Answer is simple, oblivious.
Tiger swallowed me: I was gone.
he signs death like he signs autographs—
quick, proud, no eye contact.
the ink smells of burnt orange peel and sweat.
he’s got the sun behind him,
and a pen that tastes of rust.
the papers call it “justice served,”
but i see a man trying to outpace his own shadow,
killing the ghosts before they vote again.
he changes the rules—
twelve men in a room,
now only eight have to agree
that a man deserves to die.
he smiles for the cameras,
says it’s for the victims,
but the ghosts nod off in the gallery,
too tired to haunt the living anymore.
they say it’s quicker now,
no more appeals that last a lifetime—
just a warrant, a date, a needle.
a machine that hums efficiency
in the land of oranges and hurricanes.
he calls it strength.
the newspapers call it leadership.
the preachers call it divine.
but the dead call it silence.
you can’t see mercy in the muggy air,
only steam rising from asphalt
and the sound of another man’s name
being crossed off the list.
politics is a blood thirsty business,
and power drinks best from a warm vein.
by Suzan Michelle Satchell
One night, I dreamt I went to heaven. The holy place of God, and as I looked around, I beheld beauty all around me—
So holy, so pure, I knew God dwelled there.
Light danced upon peace; not a sound could be found,
Only whispers of grace filled the air.
I was stunned by the purity, the wonder, the glow—
A beauty so profound that only heaven could know.
I stood in awe, my heart filled with delight,
Bathed in the warmth of that glorious light.
The night I went to heaven—what a sight to behold!
A story of wonder that my soul will forever hold.
I saw angels rejoicing, their faces serene,
And people at rest in a world so clean.
Words cannot capture the glory I witnessed,
My spirit still trembles, my heart still in awe.
So I thank God for that moment so rare,
For the night I went to heaven—and knew He was there.
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