Satish Verma, 30 september 2012
Sky wept
when you hanged the young truth
from a tree.
A shadow falls
on the hill
for a savior.
A winged flaw
becomes a legend
for the sake of a sword.
A nameless letter
betrays the will of a cage
to set the bird free.
My forehead marks
the wrinkles of ancestors
who would not give a name.
Satish Verma
Glenn McCrary, 29 september 2012
The callous hands of clock towers
Age the ignominy that has become
The very face known as American society
6 billion pricks occupy every anus
Engraved within this universe
And the one prick who appeared distinctive
Behaved like that of an equal associate
What are such clocks good for
Minus aiding the counting of fiendish nightmares
Foolishly published by such an inviting succubus?
I rue when I had first acknowledged her existence
Glenn McCrary, 29 september 2012
Fuck! Her choices establish tragedies
The key that fosters felicity long since marred
But now she’s found the freedom she so passionately sought
It was gifted to her as a straight jacket
In the colour of her choice
Every evening she sleeps within such paraphernalia
As the solace pacifies her in classic tones
With the cushioning characterized as a mirror
Emulating the shape she has so flawlessly taken
Two years in the knapsack
And to your very eye I am the poster child
For used condoms and tampons
Am I not worth more than fish?
Glenn McCrary, 29 september 2012
During the pre-evening liturgy
Betwixt a shabby stall
Irate I sit scribing seasoned verses
Silent as an infant in production
Whilst the slaughtering of pacifism
Across the universe ‘tis my soundness
Perforated by the eerie current
‘Twas delivered via the vapors of her breath
Curtly, such graphic memories gnaw the very bones
Of what I had thought to be timeless romance
Though once again I’ve been forsaken
To drink all ‘twas left unsaid and unknown
Satish Verma, 29 september 2012
And that did it.
Many voices in a mayhem
lost the face of lightening.
The starlight woke in rain
untainted by dust of beds
encased in wilful folds.
The tremors will not stop
the knocking of speech, after
an intimate kiss of the void.
Talking of lonely peaks,
whom I will not touch them in morning.
Let the night take its revenge.
Satish Verma
Nouzad Jaadan, 28 september 2012
I am always walking by the meat
Just to smell not to eat
Is it a life?!..No No
It ‘s teeet teeet
louis gander, 28 september 2012
Tattoo's ink smeared everywhere,
with piercings by the score -
and color-copied rainbow hair,
how can we handle more?
To get a little self-respect
our clothes must have a label.
Our auto's must be perfect,
or we appear unstable.
Eye lashes must be fastened on.
Scent squirts out from sprayers -
liner must be perfect drawn
with powder caked in layers.
Our jewelry we can wear with pride
and aging spots can cover -
the wrinkles we can try to hide
so no one will discover.
Through remedies we dig and dig.
We make a real fuss.
But apply the lipstick to a pig -
it's surface, surface, surface!
We try to conquor blunder,
we think we've conquored dull,
but what I have to wonder
is, what's inside our skull?
Man can't look beyond the skin,
Man looks at the face.
Man sees only fat or thin.
Man sees only 'race'.
God sees through all shallowness.
God sees through the skin.
God sees down inside our heart,
God sees deep within.
Some day man might teach our youth.
Some day man might feel.
Some day man might learn the truth
and hopefully get REAL!
©2009 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
http://www.ganderpoems.org/
-------
louis gander, 28 september 2012
"I've cried my eyes out every day.
My burdens, I've out-poured
in never-ending prayers to You.
Why can't You hear me Lord?
"Oh Lord, the stinging hurts me so.
They smear my wounds with salt.
My mind is scarred and You know why.
These burdens aren't my fault.
"And physically, I'm also scarred.
Each hurts a different way.
So tell me... once again I ask,
'Do You hear what I say?'"
"As days go by, I cannot cope.
Will nothing ever change?
If there were different burdens Lord,
I'd happily exchange.
"I'd trade all mine for other ones.
This pain is just too great.
Please let me trade my burdens in,
if it is not too late."
And then I saw my Savior's hands,
cupped high above my head.
He slowly lowered them to me,
and this is what He said.
"If you wish, then I will trade.
Your Savior understands.
I'll take each burden you don't want.
Just place them in my hands."
So collected I, my burdens.
They numbered as the stars.
And just before I threw them in,
I saw those nail scars.
Instinctively, I held them back.
Now I was at a loss...
I cannot trade my burdens for
His day upon the cross.
"Oh come, my dear and troubled child -
come rest in my embrace.
Have faith that I will vanquish them
and I will show you grace."
So once again, still weak in trust,
and hesitant, I feared -
but one by one I set them in
and each one disappeared!
Now I have grace... And burdens? None!
No cross of any kind!
I gave to Jesus everything -
and now have peace of mind.
©2012 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
http://www.ganderpoems.org/
-------
che, 28 september 2012
living with a nightmare from being in a dream...to late to start again,or wipe the slate clean..did you ever love me,i quess il never know,or just takeing advantage of the love i had on show...my head full of regreats...i wish i could do more...how can i get it back to the way i was before...hopelessly reliving, the darkness of that day...if i could, i would change it, in every single way...repeating pointless questions...why why why...instead of you...this is what will live with me, until the day i die.
Gert Strydom, 28 september 2012
Her eyes is shining as the stars in the night
and with a type of grace
they sparkle bright, with an own true light
displaying character and sweetness in her face
and I wonder how she feels behind her smile’s red glow
and with a type of grace
what lurks in her heart, what lurks below
her fiery radiance
and I wonder how she feels behind her smile’s red glow
her natural charm and brilliance,
and I wonder what feelings she does really keep behind
her fiery radiance
and she is sweet and sharp of whit and mind
as a girl whose beauty comes from inside
and I wonder what feelings she does really keep behind
and what secrets she does hide?
Her eyes is shining as the stars in the night,
as a girl whose beauty comes from inside
they sparkle bright, with an own true light.
Poetry
Prose
Photography
Graphics
Video poems
Postcards
Diary
Books
Handmade
