Bill Cushing, 5 september 2012
They flock
to the park
cloaked in black,
perched on benches in the Winter sun,
the bills of their ball caps, like beaks,
dip in and out.
Like grackles
surrounding bread crumbs,
the ancient Armenians
ease their emotional baggage—
too young to remember
but old enough to recall those
who lived through
or died from
the Turkish carnage.
Surrounding the tables
filled with scattered dominoes,
on Christmas eve,
the old men chatter
about the old country
and its new destruction,
moving and
connecting
the ivory bones
with brittle fingers.
This little plot is now
their patch of earth,
and as
territorial
as the chastising mocking birds,
they chase strangers
from the grounds,
children
from weathered monkey bars.
Tribhawan Kaul, 5 september 2012
Conscience
Thou art mystery
Love thy yet
Whisper out loud
Open sim sim
Thou allow one
Knowing the code
Thou feel to open
Thou fly
Thou dance
Thou swim
Thou play
Thou thrive on Truth
Truth nothing but the Truth
Discarding worn coat
In oblivion
Thou merge
With infinity
For the time being.
-------------------------------------
All rights reserved/Tribhawan Kaul
Satish Verma, 5 september 2012
Living between the deaths
as a witness
to a silence between the words.
Leaves had fallen:
yet a dry tree
was still flowering exuberantly
under a scorching sun.
My day has come,
but I was far away from
shores of the other body.
From unknown to unknown,
I am the self,
I am the known.
Satish Verma
Glenn McCrary, 5 september 2012
A contortionist achieves climax
Her clitoris saluting her lips
From within an envelope of pleasure
Causing local beatitude
Though one may query such enthusiasm
Her clitoris cooing mollifying concert
Waltzing against the hips of autumn temptation
That she was vibrant
Or that she was barren
Or that in artistry
This plausible microsecond
The happening of dawn quite imminent
And a canary perched upon a fence
Lavish us with falsettos
Each and every organism throughout the universe
Itself just below its conception
And love equalizes the balance
patty turner, 5 september 2012
I miss that light,
That cames from the darkness.
The warmth of that light.
Is the misfortune I have,
It makes me clan when I'm sad.
That light makes me smile,
Like a child with candy.
This light is not a car light,
nor a light that comes from electicity.
It's the light of the heaven's,
It's the angel that watches over me.
when i sleep at night...
Kahlia Mazacalletti, 4 september 2012
He cannot say that he loathed the darkness, it helped him to relish the light......
Though he may have desired a long dreamless slumber
Lies and truth battles in a dance for control
He was in a keen state of his disease
He wrote, erased and re-wrote his own demise
He sought redemtion, even though, half heartedly
In the end he held on to his pain
Clutching it, feeling it, it dictated his short life; 29 years on the spinning ball
He was not of my kind, I felt his heartbeat in time with mine, tho.
Are we not in love with dispair?
I did not know you my cousin, my friend
But I know you, I was almost there once.
Rest in Peace, in the loving hands of GOD
I see you in the prisms of my tears.
Naykd Poet, 4 september 2012
Man-made, ego-inspired Tradition upon which culture of Institution is built;
Though the long standing pillars of strength to humanity’s civilized presence,
Upon current examination, finds these foundations of such institution; crumbling.
The tens of decades of countless decrees enacted by purchased, elected officials
To enshrine their immutable laws, entrenching their conspired course of dominance;
A scheme of surreptitious intent for the subjugation of humanity’s true purpose;
Now, in this 21st Century, has manifest pervasive and corrupt conditions;
A virulent illness that, if left to metastasize, will erupt into global, uncivilized, chaos.
No global institution of human design is without this tarnish-taint and blemish,
Be it judicial, legislative, financial; even religious institution, all seem to have succumb;
Infected by the same symptoms of disease: corruption; manifesting insatiable wealth to
Position the few, the one-percent, to solely garner the acclaim of dynastic power
That panders, with banality of concern; espousing merits of social causes
For a better humanity, the 99 percent; whose activist, tyrants, revolutionaries;
All labels of denunciation subscribed to them by the all knowing yet elusive power force,
Courageously rally and rant words denouncing unrelenting, imposed, systematic abuse; and,
Who selflessly suffer the oppressive bludgeoning batons of militant, jackbooted police;
Remain resolute knowing their messages, seeded in spilled blood, are beginning to bear fruit
Advantaged by the tentacle-reach of social media technology; announcing a global call
That is harvesting an awakening of those once ill-informed and meek, to amass in assembly,
To encroach and occupy a demonstration encampment, to make their public presence known
To the Powers That Be; and, by these populations increasing globally each day; proclaim their Resistance.
Internationally the Occupy Movement is determined, with strident resoluteness and resolve,
To broadcast a global Manifesto of Change; to make known that the pervasive impoverishment of humanity will no longer be endured.
By demonstrating with loving passivity and willingness to suffer the brutal wrath of judicial and intentional, forcible eradication;
Embolden others to this incipient movement; to spawn a greater awakening of common minds; and,
A cohesive willingness to withstand, united, against the tyranny of malicious injustices to endear countless millions more of humanity
To muster the strength and courage to confront these lofty perpetrators and their contrived oppression;
Unified in allegiance to a commitment to march together armed with rudimentary sticks and stones;
Even in the face of the oppressors’ bullet fire; fueled by the true realization of their diminishing hope;
Ignoring the hollow promises espoused by political rhetoric; to offer up their seemingly empty lives
If only to pronounce, once-and-for-all, in a loud and increasingly omnipresent, proletariat voice:
Every women, man and child, young and old; will stand defiant against institutionalized, intimidating fear, forever absolved.
Satish Verma, 4 september 2012
I will need
some new words today.
To say what I did not want to say,
scratching at the surface of truth.
I do not fight with meanings.
A shade between two borders of lies
between right and wrong. The eyes
will speak for the fierceness of hurts
carrying the fear of unknown.
It is, or was it drifting?
The declining time or sliding years
whichever was true,
will find a fallen tree
in a flowing river,
when I was still searching the sandbar
My sane world has no desire.
Satish Verma
Glenn McCrary, 4 september 2012
Acquiring the libel of critics
Internally at times I bleat
And snarl, brow furrowed
Like an actress when filming a major motion porno
“Originality bid us farewell” screams my advanced intellect
Nothing more than a social outcast who lacks a catalyst
(though thankfully the universe is an object of open ended philosophy)
The voices of such a generation fail to carry notes
Beyond the octave range
Only Canis lupus familiaris feces, in its rejuvenated appearance,
Delivers abstract imagery
What was once honorable has dissolved into media sewage
Virginal darlings now dissolved into marionettes
Shall my poems alienate the public
They shall at least demonstrate bravery
Satish Verma, 3 september 2012
It was a wake up call
invoked
in the beginning of serene numbness.
Under the veiled threat of
a moon
celebrating the kill. A path in croci;
waiting becomes a torture for a
saffron sundown,
mercury was rising on snowy peaks.
Let’s toe a shikara in the lake
to catch a reflection
of the audible silence of a frozen shoulder
A pause in psychotic burst of
unshattered false teeth
of time in full habit.
Satish Verma
Poetry
Prose
Photography
Graphics
Video poems
Postcards
Diary
Books
Handmade
