TABLE OF
CONTENTS
Mismeasure
- Quinn Tyler Jackson
Rusty Couth: A Love Poem Quinn - Tyler Jackson
Poem - Quinn Tyler Jackson
Estimates: A Sonnet - Quinn Tyler Jackson
Mystery’s Recant - Quinn Tyler Jackson
Janus - Quinn Tyler Jackson
"Consume with the First Hunger" - Quinn Tyler Jackson
Oh That Valentine’s Muse… - Quinn Tyler Jackson
Poem - Quinn Tyler Jackson
Saint Valentine Wasn’t Beatified For No Reason At All.. -
Quinn Tyler Jackson
Alone - Pete Michalak
Note To Self - Cheri Ramberg
Janus - Cheri Ramberg
SOMEWHERE - Cheri Ramberg
The Messiah - Cheri Ramberg
Madman's Song/God Bless - This Mess Paul Nachbar
Of The World... (for Jill) - Paul Nachbar
Futilitarian Friday - Paul Nachbar
My Muse(s) - Paul Nachbar
Sonnet - Paul Nachbar
Sonnet II - Paul Nachbar
The Hive - Paul Nachbar
The Critics: The Case Against My Own Existence -
Paul Nachbar
Two You Who - Elliot Siemon
Quantum Questions - Elliot Siemon
Maybe - Mark Norman
INSPIRATION - Mark Norman
THE TOXIC CHEMICAL MALL - Jonathan Marin
Poem - Elliot Siemon
Consider - Elliot Siemon
To Be or Not to Be - David Udbjorg
I Don't Know Why… - David Udbjorg
Momentum - David Udbjorg
Poem - S.L. MacNiven
Perfection - S.L. MacNiven
Opposites, and All the Same - Rachel Raleigh
A Steaming Cup of Jasmine Tea - Lee Price
If's At Twilight - Lee Price
Slaying the Snap-Dragon - Lee Price
The Paradoxical Duality of Jesus Christ - The Incredible Oedipal Egg
- Tommy Smith
Star - Ngoc M. Nguyen
Toilet Bowl Muse - Ngoc M. Nguyen
A Love No Greater - Ngoc M. Nguyen
Repentance - Barry Howard
Mismeasure
Quinn Tyler Jackson
You've tried to figure me out
by dowsing with a
common rod, finding only
the dust and stones
in the desert sand of
other common men.
You've tried to measure
me up by dropping a
common plumb, but the string
unwinds before the pendulum
swings, and no measure
is made.
What you haven't tried
to do is watch my stride
take in the sweep of my step,
catch the angle of my arms,
put your arms around me
and not some conception.
Rusty Couth: A Love Poem
Quinn Tyler Jackson
I don't know what to say to you
When my tongue loses strength,
Or how to talk the whole thing through
To its deservèd length.
I don't know to classify
All my half-thought-out deeds,
Or even how to versify
My all too human needs.
I'd give a gift, but it would pale
Beside what you give me,
I'd sing a song, but it would fail
To sound out all my glee.
I'd call to mind a line or two
Of good old Bobby Burns,
'Til all the seas went dry and you
Would know how my heart yearns.
But, even if I found the sounds
To make my passion clear,
To know just how this love astounds,
Must also know my fear.
I fear the day when I'm alone,
All gray and lost to time,
If your parting is ere my own,
If lines fall without rhyme.
So, though I don't know half the way
To speak of all I feel,
I'll say what I have come to say,
And paint it passing real:
No verse could find a metered end,
No foot would iambs touch,
No lyric verse my aching mend,
Without your gentle touch.
No sonnet would good Petrarch pen,
No heaven could he claim,
Without you in the now and then,
Just wouldn't be the same.
So if you find me faltering,
Remember: you're my muse,
So guide me in my wandering,
And I won't wander loose.
And if you find me hard to hear,
Pardon my rusty couth;
I am yours now and ev'ry year,
Wife of my happy youth.
Poem
Quinn Tyler Jackson
I wish that I could say
That everything I do
Is always well thought through,
But sometimes I will pay
For hasty half-thought-out,
And when this happens, friend,
Forgive me in the end;
I am no one without
Someone to remind me
That what makes the world spin --
I learn again, again --
Is the variety
And not a single soul:
I meant no slight to you
Who has to me been true,
Though I am a fool.
I cannot comprehend
The grander scheme of things,
And how it sometimes stings,
And how I must then mend
The wrongs that I have caused,
Except that you will speak
That I opened my beak
When I ought to have paused
To ask what was called for.
I meant no shame to come
By my being so dumb:
I pray to sin no more.
Estimates: A Sonnet
Quinn Tyler Jackson
I do not recall having set a price,
And even so, I'm asked what I would pay
For a chance to explain my sins away:
Shall I estimate -- would that be caprice?
Damned if I know the cost, damned wholly thrice,
Standing unable to the ransom weigh,
What price these stains that have inked me? Can't say
I know, and if I can't, I hide my face
From all transactions founded on that sum.
I am a lousy arithmetician,
Do not hold me to my half-assed guesses.
You ask what I offer and find me dumb,
Unable to do a quick addition,
To slap a fine on all my fine messes.
Mystery’s Recant
Quinn Tyler Jackson
I don't know why
the mystery
eludes my eyes,
ignores my cries
so totally,
but if I cry
just one more time
it may decide
to hear me once
and in this chance
I must abide
and bide my rhyme.
Though I fall down
from pain's scorching,
I shan't renounce
even one ounce
of my teaching
about the crown,
but if you hear
a loud recant,
it was the pain
in my refrain,
agony's chant,
brought out by fear.
I do not want
to reach that day
but if I do
remember who
would sometimes stray
from his own point.
Janus
Quinn Tyler Jackson
I wish I had all the answers
To all that you would ask
But I'm only human
And know no more of it than you.
I wish I knew why some people
Have faces on both sides
Of their heads: two-mouths,
Each with its own presentation.
Although I don't know why it is,
My advice stands loudly:
To avoid the two faced,
Just ask people to turn around.
"Consume with the First Hunger"
Quinn Tyler Jackson
Lyrics:
What passion waits beneath the flaming lock,
No simple answer to a lover's ask,
What soul will tremble when you smoothly talk,
What lover is up to that daunting task?
Caress with the perception of your eyes,
Consume with the first hunger of your soul,
Undress and prepare for passion's loud cries,
Untame my body as you take it whole.
Don't hold back, tear into my manly heart,
I do not mind the tigress claws you wield:
Mark me with the scent of your flowing art,
I'm far beyond resistance and will yield.
Dance me as you do and I shall return
Each measure that you offer with my own,
And as the rod ignites and fevers burn,
Knight me at the hot scepter with your crown.
And when the moment finally comes nigh,
Reject all attempts to hold back -- let go! --
As stars kiss one another in the sky,
And we two find ourselves in frantic throw.
My God! what flashed before me instantly?
Was that the faces of angels in the mist?
What hot shining from those eyes did I see?
Was that the Perfect Moment that we kissed?
Oh That Valentine’s Muse…
Quinn Tyler Jackson
Oh, that Valentine's Muse is loose... to be shared at Maximum Volume...
I feel your breath upon my chest,
I taste your flaming sigh,
I tremble that I've been caressed,
But never wonder why.
I breathe your lips as they breathe mine,
E'en wine is not so swift
To intoxicate every line
Or such a spirit lift.
With my hands I find the gentle small
Of a back arched for me,
I watch the rise and feel the fall
Of this eternity.
I smell the sweat that fills the air,
And wonder at its slide,
As it trickles through your burnt hair
And pleasures from the ride.
I scream inside ten thousand chants,
Some ancient, some quite new,
And frolic in the circumstance
That has me knowing you.
And if one hundred years should pass
Before I loose my fire,
How each year locked like this, my lass,
Would never make me tire.
Poem
Quinn Tyler Jackson
What do you mean to me?
I search for the answers
In words and memory
and find only riddles
because I've known no one
like you before and can't
compare some past person
to you in my present.
I know who you are, though,
And you are a special
influence, it is true:
you are a friend and I'll
do my best to keep that
friendship strong and flowing,
no matter where or what
I find myself doing.
Saint Valentine Wasn’t Beatified For No Reason At All..
Quinn Tyler Jackson
Saint Valentine wasn’t
beatified for no reason at all
How you get my groove on,
without even trying,
and you get my move on,
and my brain all frying.
There are colors I've seen
in these so recent days
and places my mind's been
in so many new ways,
If I described them all
the words would be half wit,
just how 't is you enthrall
I couldn't describe it.
How you get it going,
and sparking at the grain,
how you get thoughts flowing,
and flying in my brain!
Alone
Pete Michalak
Here I sit all alone,
Looking for a word or two
To fill this empty zone
And fill my heart anew.
I cannot bear to be without
The words I do not hear
So please write and give a shout
So I can hold you near.
Your warm embrace a memory
So many years ago
We held each other hungrily
And did not want to go.
But leave I did
And you behind
Your hurt you hid
And said you don't mind.
I traveled very far away
And did not ever return
Our love has lasted still today
And for each other we yearn.
Someday will be a reality
We pray for this each day
For us to be in unity
And in love in every way.
To feel the warmth of your embrace
Your skin so smooth to touch
To place a kiss upon your face
And hope I don't presume to much.
To hold each other tightly
And whisper words of love
And as we make love nightly
We whisper words of love.
Note To Self
Cheri Ramberg
Stop Whining, Do you
Have food to eat,
Trees in your yard
Clothes on your back
- A credit card?
Stop Stressing About
Your unpaid bills
The edge of space,
The afterlife
The human race.
Stop believing that
We give a damn
Your faith is strong
The world is safe
We get along.
Janus
Cheri Ramberg
I wish I had all the answers
To all that you would ask
But I'm only human
And know no more of it than you.
I wish I knew why some people
Have faces on both sides
Of their heads: two-mouths,
Each with its own presentation.
Although I don't know why it is,
My advice stands loudly:
To avoid the two faced,
Just ask people to turn around.
SOMEWHERE
Cheri Ramberg
You took away your friendly smile,
And we've been hoping all the while,
That you would turn up safe and sound -
To ease our growing loss, profound.
Please come home! We really miss you,
My favourite furry feline friend.
You left without a single clue.
When will this nightmare simply end?
Each little noise I hear at night,
Draws me quick to the window, where
I lean down from it's lofty height,
And call out loud, that you might hear.
Merlie! I cry into the dark -
Have you come home to us at last?
Inside my heart a little spark,
Of hope ignites from mem'ries past.
I've yet to search the wooded space,
Where paw by foot, we took our walks.
You frolicked then, and gave great chase,
To tasty treats you loved to stalk.
Afraid of what I might there find,
Tell tales signs of a twisted feast.
Parts of you maybe, left behind,
By a tawny fang'd canine beast.
Or did some kind soul take you in,
Unmindful of our growing pain.
My faith once strong, grows ever thin.
Will we ever see you again?
We've known you for a year or so,
But we can't seem to let you go.
You need to know how much we care,
And hope that you're alive -
Merlin 2000 -
Beloved brother to Salem
Friend and Companion.
- Somewhere
The Messiah
Cheri Ramberg
The universe expands, contracts
D i s s i p a t e s . . . . . . .
Quintessentially dark of matter
Big bang, little bang resonates
Or maybe just a sigh, no matter-
Here on Earth we await
The Original thought.
Madman's Song/God Bless This Mess
Paul Nachbar
*note please do not confuse the author with his creation..this little feller seemed to have an invitation in earlier posts and now he's out, well, perhaps temporarily.
The fever burns throughout my brain
My life seems partial, something less
Than what the bourgeois would ordain
That is, an overflowing mess;
I never said that I was sane
And always did somehow confess
With folks to whom it would be vain
To eke compassion - I obsess
Yet through this madness seek to gain;
The fever burns into my brain
And seeps into my muttered words
I laugh into my clutched palm
And think their discourse that of birds-
I mean, those experts, doctors, men
And women of some proper place-
Cacaphony of frantic chirps
And cheeps and peeps and calls-
I stretch out in my bland disgrace;
:
The fever singes my sore brain
Though deep inside I am quite calm
For there is pain that's beyond pain:
Who cares if they did drop the bomb
On Berkshire, New York, Bangor ,Maine ?
Or what would happen in the wake.
It is pure reason I disdain
The trace in sanity... of fake
God made Abel as He made Cain;
The fever bubbles in my brain
Against that tyrant titled Work
I wallow in the swamp, insane
And shun the duty of the clerk
The one who gladly took the deal
-oh such a happy little jerk!
And chose what folks entitle "real"
I rub my hands and coil my hair
And talk to those who aren't there;
The fever boils inside my brain
Rebels against that thing called Love
I count my silence a great gain
It fits my spite like hand in glove;
So what if there is beauty there?
The world is mostly piles of shit
And no one here would really care
If one more being drowned in it:
I sit and grin and blankly stare....
I sit and rock and grimly stare...
Of The World... (for Jill)
Paul Nachbar
It seems,' says the philosopher
'To minds both young and rash
'As real a thing as real could be'
Then strokes hid bold mustache.
'It seems' says the philosopher
'But it is just Idea
'Look deep, look deep inside of things
'To find the meaning there.'
'It seems' says the historian
'Just sequence of todays'
'But listen to the hidden depths
Of all our yesterdays.'
'It seems,' says the historian
But let us find the cause
Behind all of the tragedies
Which ferment behind laws.'
'It seems' says the psychologist
'A thing of want and will
But look beneath what's common sense
To see what made us ill.'
'It seems' says the psychologist
Now mighty in her role
'A thing of random good and bad
'It's all in your control'
******
'Aha,' proclaims the broken one
Perhaps inside a poem:
'All of these things are only dreams
Inside each so-called form.'
'Aha,' now sighs the broken one
'You sought to build things tall
'And this was just a flow of dreams
'Behind your structures all.'
'Aha' proclaims the broken one
'You guard the daily hour
'And earn your fancy watch of gold-
'This fine display of power.'
'Aha' proclaims the broken one
'You've trod on highways rough
Oh pilgrims for some other cause-
Think dreams are other stuff?'
'Alas' proclaims the broken one
'These dreams beneath the flesh
And tales we tell to make them seem
More than some road to death?'
'I do not scorn your mighty work
I do not mock success
I do not seek with my own grief
To ruin happiness.'
'I sit amidst this busy world
Which can with quickness crush
The briefness of a single rose
The nightsong of a thrush.'
'I sit amidst this busy world
Unhonored from above
And cry out in this unsuccess
Can you remember love?"
Futilitarian Friday
Paul Nachbar
They said that I should dance and sing
They said that I would one day thrive
Surprise- I mainly read thick books
At forty-four I'm still alive
And learned the awful truth of it:
You yearn, you hope, you try, you work
You build the structures broad and tall
You think, you pray, you dream, you strive
And still those structures someday fall;
It's not that I don't care a bit
I grasp, wise innocent at love
Yet know that loss will come to all:
You think, you pray, you dream, you strive
And still your efforts someday fall.
My Muse(s)
Paul Nachbar
I use my muse
She uses me
I don't know what
She sees in me;
My friends and family
Quite concur:
They don't know what
I see in her;
Together we might
Seem quite odd
To folks who don't
Think deep on God:
Look high
On hope and misery-
And then you'll read
What your eyes see.
Sonnet
Paul Nachbar
Tell me dear this wasn’t just a pipe dream
Though I'm not among the restless young
Tell me , Dear, that this was more than pipe dreams
All those words you've gotten from this tongue
Did I say our life would be a smooth one?
Did I say I'd always know the path?
Could I be an ever-ardent soldier?
Could I always make you smile and laugh?
Every man who's lived was once a sophomore
Sophomores say of course sophomoric things
Twice his age is simply twice a sophomore's
Thus it is for peasants, fools or kings.
Tell a man that he is more than pipe dreams
And of all his heart you will have half.
Sonnet II
Paul Nachbar
Of death it could be said that there’s no ‘there’ there
Although the fevered heart would wish not so
Sometimes my active mind will make a 'here' there
And yet towards death I do not gladly go ;
Oh there are many places with no 'here' there
Yes there are many places I'd not go
Oh places filled with nothing and just nowhere
Except a stretch of endless, endless snow;
Yet thinking of our words in these odd spaces
And thinking of your smiles, even your tears
Of what in me you prompted, all the traces
The endless thoughts, both good and bad, through years:
I know that in this nowhere there is someplace
To which I would with good momentum go.
The Hive
Paul Nachbar
It looks like a Structure
They say it's run according to Middle-Class Values
They write articles about how you can't find anything
better anywhere
Or make movies about how this is as good as it gets
Or show plays about the 'dysfunctional' members who
can't really escape it
But to me it's all just a beehive
As perfect in design and just as infuriating.
It looks like a System
And they say it's run according to Rational Values
And the Experts inside of it, in and out of those
meetings where they clump together
Say that this is Reality and that they are the Real Ones
Meanwhile hiring other Experts to fictionalize the lives
of anybody who tried to escape from it
But to me it's all just a beehive
And their language just as intelligible and unintelligible.
It looks like a Society
And they say that though there is good and bad everywhere
That this is the best of Civil Societies
And the people inside of it put up their flags and shout
Their slogans about this or that prideworthy thing
Or this or that subject of shame
Making care to feed the public humorous episodes about
Their Own Lives and the Perils of Anybody Who Leaves
The Beaten Trail Except When Guided By An Expert
But to me it's all just a beehive
And their workmanlike prose and sharp jargon just as annoying.
It looks like a Country
And there are a thousand maps showing what is north, south,
East and West and how far one thing is from another
And there are a million towns and provinces, states, regions,
Parishes, departments, cities and divisions
And a million policemen, lawyers, customs inspectors, grammar
Inspectors, behavior collectors and thought correctors
To keep things safe for , well, whomever
But to me it's just a beehive
And this great order a matter of annoying convenience at best.
It looks like the World
But it is only an idea of the World
Imposed upon the World for the sake of the hive
And defended by the philosophers and theologians
Or attacked by the tolerated anti-philosophers and anti-theologians
So that the hive can perpetuate itself, though they call this
By many many complicated and high-faluting names.
Me? I can only say here that I am myself
And must `cope' with the hive-like state of things,
Liking honey and the flowers it comes from about
As much as anyone.
The Critics: The Case Against My Own Existence
Paul Nachbar
You look well-fed, so what’s the matter?
Did your college thesis shatter?
Hey, try living in the world:
Here, my arguments all shatter.
You're well-groomed, so what's the worry?
Were you frazzled by the hurry?
Hey, try doing honest work:
Thus, proclaims the silent jury.
You speak well, so what's the issue?
Should we sob into a tissue?
Hey, you cannot change this rules here:
We should all bow down and kiss you?
You write well, so where's the pain here?
Should we from ourselves refrain dear?
Life begins at seven-thirty:
Think you "freedom" is a nightmare?
You seem strong, so what's the point now?
Shall we every grievance allow?
Here "below" we mainly function
You sip milk from every cash cow..
Two You Who
Elliot Siemon
Perhaps is was to easy
Maybe you're afraid of life
Was the whirl wind too breezy
You're afraid of the term - Wife
Getting even with men
Understand you're projecting
Burning your bridges again
Its not worth protecting
Testing to see if you could
Forever without a clue
Never knowing if you should
Even if you wanted to
Perhaps you seek validation
Maybe a 'fantasizer'
Spike that imagination
On a vampire's incisor
Want to swing like a trapeze
Disappointed I don't rape
My heart glitters in the breeze
Like roadside recording tape
If I were a masochist
I would not enjoy your game
Leaving a dream to be kissed
Longing to forget your name*
* Alternate:
And a li'l rino to tame
Quantum Questions
Elliot Siemon
Tis said that nothing exists alone,
(If you understand, you're not a dunce.)
Perhaps it is why we want to clone,
Like atoms have many states at once.
Perhaps everything is relative,
And the Universes are alive,
With anti-matter quantitative
And where multi-dimensions do thrive.
Nothing can not exist? Is space empty?
(Isn't quantum poetry sublime...?)
Where is dark matter good and plenty?
When is change equivalent to time?
But if one thing is truly certain,
It's that existence will never pale;
Never will fall a final curtain,
For affections shall always prevail.
Maybe
Mark Norman
The finality of endlessness time
To die for love
To hate to belong
To kill to survive
To give birth, and then to die
To learn to forget
To fear death, but suffer to live
To kill for a God
That loves and forgives
Ah, the symmetry of contradiction
in a world with no absolutes
in a novel that I cannot afford,
we call `Truth'.
I might settle for
the paperback version, `Faith',
someday.
I hear they give it away.
Even deliver it to the door
along with the telephone books and bills.
I hope to believe one day.
But, for now my salvation
lies in the power of one
word that makes sense of a
senseless world.
Maybe
INSPIRATION
Mark Norman
Oh, that elusive muse;
Manifests only unanticipated,
so scarce when sought,
fluid when cornered,
and defiant when caught.
It creeps up unforeseen only
to become quickly obscure.
Leaving behind a fog of dementia
for those awaiting it to reoccur.
We try to entice it with
the spectrum of emotional treats,
love and hate, fortune and fate,
or assorted death defying feats.
And when it alights
angst be ours a wanting
of pen and paper to
scribe its sagacious fancies.
So be ye attentive, long to suffer,
with quill in hand and paper to knee.
Perpetually prepared to capture
its gift when it comes to thee.
THE TOXIC CHEMICAL MALL
Jonathan Marin
CHORUS
At the Toxic Chemical Mall
The Toxic Chemical Mall
They do not spare
Water, soil, or air
At the Toxic Chemical Mall
I.
There's paths to bike
And trails to hike
In winter there's a sleighride.
There's boats to takeOn a sterile lake
That's mostly vinyl chloride.
Corroded drums
Leak noxious gums
To welcome all who enter.
Lead-toxious fuels
In storage pools
Feed a fountain at the center.
CHORUS
At the Toxic Chemical Mall
The Toxic Chemical Mall
They do not spare
Water, soil, or air
At the Toxic Chemical Mall
II.
There's aldehydes
That'll burn your eyes
When the fountain starts a-pumpin'
It'll fry your gills
With the caustic spills
Of years and years of dumpin'.
No need to sniff
To catch a whiff
The aroma is pervasive.
If you're like to cough
It'll set you off
It's guaranteed abrasive.
CHORUS
At the Toxic Chemical Mall
The Toxic Chemical Mall
They do not spare
Water, soil, or air
At the Toxic Chemical Mall
III.
There's eggless hens
And mutagens
That make the boldest cautious.
The acrid smell
From every well
Makes even sewer rats nauseous.
There's a benzene shower
'Bout every hour
At the hydrocarbon river.
Breathe N-O-x
And drifting specks,
While the alkenes coat your liver.
CHORUS
At the Toxic Chemical Mall
The Toxic Chemical Mall
They do not spare
Water, soil, or air
At the Toxic Chemical Mall
IV.
Condensing spume
Will sputter and fume
Hell, it's been reported glowin'.
Its special kick
Makes the Eastside sick
When the old west wind's a-blowin'.
It's known to choke
Air breathing folk
Of every rank and station.
It's a monument
To the judge-u-ment
Of a Great Industrial Nation.
CHORUS
The Toxic Chemical Mall
The Toxic Chemical Mall
They do not spare
Water, soil, or air
At the Toxic Chemical Mall
V.
Great valves of brass
Spread laughing gas
That numbs the minds of locals.
Rich financiers
High-five broad sneers
At the dumb defenseless yokels.
Their industry
Will come for free
They'll promise jobs and manna.
They'll help your state
Enjoy the fate
Of sweet Louisiana.
CHORUS
The Toxic Chemical Mall
The Toxic Chemical Mall
They do not spare
Water, soil, or air
At the Toxic Chemical Mall
Poem
Elliot Siemon
Those hours that
with gentle work did frame
The relatively easy work of several hours
The lovely gaze where every eye doth dwell,
Easy to look at
Will play the tyrants to the very same
Will play havoc with it...
And that unfair which fairly doth excel:
Which, essentially, excels at unfairness
For never-resting time leads summer on
To me this is where the poem begins
The above is like an introduction quatrain
Time marches on, leaving summer..
To hideous winter and confounds him there;
...Calls winter hideous... (the bard,
apparently doesn't ski) like suspending time
Sap cheque'd with frost and lusty leaves quite gone,
Suspending tree sap, striping leaves from the trees
Beauty o'ersnow'd and bareness every where:
Beauty covered by snow; impression of bareness
Then, were not summer's distillation left,
Then in the midst of this winter wonderland
A liquid prisoner pent in walls of glass,
Beauty's effect with beauty were bereft,
Nor it nor no remembrance what it was:
But flowers distill'd though they with winter meet,
Leese but their show; their substance still lives sweet.
I'm sure he is describing a flower preserved in a bottle
of some sort of distilled liquid, perhaps alcohol,
formaldehyde or something similar... in which
it still seems to live...
Consider
Elliot Siemon
Consider that great poets of Yesteryear
Had little poetry of their own to read,
Few books and still fewer poets to hold dear.
But if they lived today, what would be their Fate?
Would THE NEW YORKER consider TO AUTUMN?
Would TO HIS COY MISTRESS be considered Great?
Perhaps we'd find PARADISE LOST to be Hell.
Sans titles, what would we think of Dickinson?
Would LEAVES OF GRASS wither in some deep dark dell?
What effect does all the great poetry have?
Today, in the shadow of the Albatross,
Would HOLLY WILLY'S PRAYER be but a salve?
While rappers, like famed lemmings, march to the Sea.
On sunrise, sunset, ravens or meadowlark,
How many poems of Love and Will can there be?
And on store shelves, books of poetry unsold.
Poets churns the Web with words of Wisdom,
But who amongst them, will history behold?
So, perhaps write only for yourself young Blake.
Emily, the recluse thing's been done before.
Only for yourself and let the world eat Cake.
To Be or Not to Be
David Udbjorg
If RrR ! rRR ?
iF Rr2B ! r2BR
IF Ur rU2R ?
Jubii :) I z
BU! 0 R
CU4T
I Don't Know Why…
David Udbjorg
I know.
I know
I should know.
Who knows?
Why I don't know.
I know
They know.
It's nice to know,
That somebody
Does know.
I know
Momentum
David Udbjorg
This moment could last forever!
If this moment lasted forever,
then forever is very short!
A short moment is reality!
Reality, is it now?
A moment……….forever?
Poem
S.L. MacNiven
Chopin’s nocturnes fill this night,
The wind delights in frantic flight,
Whisky is my company,
My love is wine’s new progeny,
She leaves the room now in despair,
Chansons no longer fill the air,
But Chopin strikes the gentle strings,
Which withal a sadness brings,
Now she’s gone the night is still,
Alone the black of Scottish will,
Who once rode with great Bruce’s heart,
Whose spirit other worlds doth chart,
Alone where Bacchus leads the train,
As the warming shards of winter’s rain…
Perfection
S.L. MacNiven
Perfection, is nothing. Nothing, is perfect.
If I were perfect what would I be?
A balanced being certainly,
No forces acting 'pon my parts,
No tension in my perfect heart,
No kinesis no potential,
Nothing more coincidental,
Time an unwanted dimension,
Space alone an enervation,
No "need" within my equipoise,
A silence in a sea of noise,
A coordinate without a plane,
A completed non-recurring wane,
I'd be I'll say a one-man tryst,
I'd simply no longer exist!
Opposites, and All the Same
Rachel Raleigh
Discrimination and ignorance
With understated magnificence
So many lies, so much deception
In truthfulness and good's conception
The pure, the innocent, and the clean
Coupled with the disturbed and mean
Identical to one another
Each one distinctive from the other
They are capable of endless things
Finding certainty in misgivings
Yet failing to know fact from fiction
Realizing doubt in conviction
They know so much, and yet so little
Their inner thoughts remain a riddle
They are opposites and all the same
And they come together in a name
A name implying nothing at all
But something strangely exceptional
A bizarre dichotomy began
In this one creation known as Man
A Steaming Cup of Jasmine Tea
Lee Price
In barefoot silence
where sages trek
and stone and cedar heights
are brushed into the sky,
There, in watercolored silence
the switchbacks
traced the Way...
Past ink-blue brooks,
trickling through twisted pines,
Past water~
falls of wavy lines...
And like a fool,
enchanted by the scene
I sipped and dripped my tea.
On the pale green path of naked footprints
leading to Siddhartha's tree.
If's At Twilight
Lee Price
Stark against the snow,
three dots.
a finch? a crow?
Perhaps just sparrows?
spots in evening's glow.
Perhaps, though now
we'll never know.
Slaying the Snap-Dragon
Lee Price
Creepy, crawley, teeney, awesome! Tiny hero
playing 'possum...
Rise, Sir! Slay this wicked blossom! Creepy, shiny,
gallant, awesome!
The Paradoxical Duality of Jesus Christ - The Incredible Oedipal Egg
Tommy Smith
Was it a bang with a big B
or perhaps not quite that precise
maybe the ambiguous endeavor
of a macroentity's sweet device.
Regardless of what is relative to belief
the empty void has been filled by Me
this conundrum cannot be solved by logic
or a mysterious dogmatic 6003.
An avatar among us should clear things up
Pour it into our naive minds
I think our cups runneth over
As we forget the past, the future's refined.
It was an attempt to clarify, to enlighten and transcend
into a lofty understanding of the morals we cast aside
Yet as easy as it should've been
the Sirens won't allow us to abide.
So they turn towards a myriad truths
none of which will ever ring true
A cosmic puzzle without one piece
keeps us in our stoic view.
The Babylonian empire is built again
this time much taller than before
It's gothic towers like shadowy figures
standing outside the killing floor.
So we've laid his treasures on the ground
and decided to go in search of our own
Yet we're not the avatar merging two
the likes of which we've never known.
A bang, a week, a chiliad
like a day or the twinkling of an eye
our conundrum has been replaced by power
while the end is growing ever nigh.
Star
Ngoc M. Nguyen
Splashing, thrashing, and crashing is the sea,
Like a wounded dragon in all its dying misery,
But this lone sailor from afar,
Nevertheless follows the rescuing light of
Polaris, the Compass Star.
Toilet Bowl Muse
Ngoc M. Nguyen
It is very humbling to have to use the toilet,
Can you imagine it? Even world leaders like the U.S. President,
the Pope, or the Queen of England have to sit on one of these, I bet.
And--I mean no disrespect--our dignitaries, too, can be full of excrement.
A Love No Greater
Ngoc M. Nguyen
My Dear, with hand around thine supple waist,
And the other none too chaste,
Let us not this moment waste.
Tonight can be ours if we so dare,
And as I undo thine flowing hair,
It falls around thee in the cool, night air.
I am filled with passionate delight,
To know pleasures eternal we will prove tonight,
But when the pitchers of Michelob-Lite,
Wear off the next day I turn to brittle stone,
As I roll over and see that thou art ugly to the bone!
Repentance
Barry Howard
Once again with selfish whim
Failed I to make the choice
Of love, of care for you my dear
Hear now my sorrowed voice
Pressing onward, keeping pace
Why have I chased these things
Of fools, of air, an empty stare
With folly, you I sting
What can be said at this late hour
When then I should have known
Of acts unkind, of sins all mine
No love have you been shown
Though past is new and wounds are fresh
Can slates be wiped again
Of woes, of wrongs, I cause in throngs
Forgive me for your pain
If given grace, please mark my words
That time will take new form
Of sitting, talking, evening walking
Hands held through these storms
