TABLE OF CONTENTS - POETRY

Actors Prayer - J. R. Simons
Q - 0001 - Monte Washburn
To All of Those...- Dan Pinna
There and Back Again - David Ellis
The Anti-Poem - Quinn Tyler Jackson
Mothers' Day - Kay Lindgren
Legion of Honor - David Ellis
To My Mother - Wallace W. Rhodes
Prisoner of Love - Paul Nachbar
Post Mother's Day Poem - Paul Nachbar
Svart PÅ Vitt - Peter Ingestad (Krax)
Who Ruled Judea - Jon Marin
Election Year Ditty - Jon Marin
Kite Flight - Kathleen Cesaro
Haiku - Hernan Chang
Motherhood - Kathleen Cesaro
Cassandra's Retirement* - Kathleen Cesaro
Depression - Sas Phan-Valdez
The Journey - Sas Phan-Valdez
Good Fences - Paul Nachbar
Snowballs in Hell - Paul Nachbar
Depression Given Indigestion - Kathleen Cesaro
Let Silence Speak - Dr. Greg Grove
Rotten-Dot-Com - Kay Lindgren
Vagrant Vagaries - Kay Lindgren
For Old Time's Sake - Quinn Tyler Jackson
Early Morning's Random Thoughts - Kathleen Cesaro
Grief - Kathleen Cesaro
The Great Chinese Wall - (Dusty)Wallace W. Rhodes, Ph.D.,P.E.
Marx Socialism - (Dusty)Wallace W. Rhodes, Ph.D.,P.E.
Sand, Beards, Rags on Pates - (Dusty)Wallace W. Rhodes, Ph.D.,P.E.
November's Song - Kathleen Cesaro
Oh, Find Me a Serum - Quinn Tyler Jackson
Ergo-nomics - Quinn Tyler Jackson
Your Breath Sends - Daniele Pinna
Think Here Of - Paul Nachbar
The Sparrow with the Broken Wing - J. R. Simons
Death Came to Gotham - J. R. Simons
Yes - Thomas (Torg de Tomas) Hadley
All - Thomas (Torg the Graped) Hadley
PGSerz: Saludas! - Thomas (Tomas el Gringo Poetico) Hadley
Poor Man Richard's Haiku - Quinn Tyler Jackson
Mikrosoft - FÖrgyller - Internet - Dikten - Peter Ingestad (Krax)
Senryu - Kathleen Cesaro

"Actors’ Prayer" - J. R. Simons

Lord, bless our performance.
Bless us with projection so that all may hear,
Bless us with expression so that all may see,
Bless us with passion so that all may feel.

Bless our performance, indeed!
Bless us with a knowing audience that our work might be appreciated,
Bless us with a giving audience that they might express their appreciation,
Bless us with applause that we might know You are pleased.

Increase our fame,
That another audience will want to see us,
That we will be asked to perform here again,
That we will be asked to perform elsewhere.

Lord, lay Your hand upon us,
Guide our voice that they may not quaver,
Guide our steps that they may not waver,
Guide our gestures that they may not be overdone.

Lord, keep us from harm,
Let not a single note be sour,
Let not a single step be out of place,
Let not a single cue be missed.

Lord, bless our performance. Amen.

Q - 0001 - Monte Washburn

How can it be conquered?
It stood unchallenged for years.
Yet I know I am called
And I have put aside all fears.

It stands undefeated,
but so do I.
No one can understand
why I have to try.

Many better than I tried;
Yet, try I will
Those who have tried and died
know how I feel.

The conquer is wrong,
but to be conquered is worse.
With me I carry the battalion song
And a single Bible Verse.

Space must be conquered,
for it is my call;
And I will be followed
If perchance I should fall.

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To all of those... * - Dan Pinna

To all of those I belong to
for better or for worse;
To all of those that stood by me
to help me through; to fiercely curse.
To all of those that cried together
in the hours of despair;
To that one we love and cherish;
To that one that left us bare.

To all of those I can’t ignore
for they have changed me much;
To all of those I feel compelled
to thank for each, and every touch.
To all of those who laughed together
in the moments of major glee;
To the one we all saw perish:
challenged infinity and stole its key.

To all of those I’ve hated strongly
for their pathetic words;
To all of those I’ve envied for
their blind commitment: they’re all nerds!
To all those who despised each other
when all felt like hell’s recoil;
To the one so strong and bearish
that left us to our greatest toil.

To all of those I’ve loved so quietly
denying all my chills;
To all of those I look at proudly
for whom my heart with pleasure fills.
To all of those that hugged and kissed
when we made affection lord;
To the one we keenly anguish
for he passed away: left no reward.

To all of those that fought in peril;
To all of those that did agree;
To all those whom I write this carol;
To all those I can foresee
a future of unstoppable achievers
who will crush life down
to her wicked knee.

To all of those I may forget;
To all those I won’t remember;
To all those I can’t regret
being to me so warm and tender.

To all you brothers of virgin woes;
To all you sisters of childhood sins;
To all you all for what you’ve been:
I’d wish to thank you, but can’t begin.

I could shed a thousand tears
but none of them could be heard.
I could gulp my single heart
But it would just all feel absurd.

I can only give you simple tidings,
common phrases and awful bidings,
sugar-coat them and assign them
to your much more noble souls

So just know this
as a last good-bye.
Just hear this
last humble sigh:

"To all of you I bid adieu
with this song’s final debris
I could never, ever erase you
For in my heart you all will be."

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There and Back Again - David Ellis

There and back again.
Cancer, treatment, depression,
I have survived.
I understand.

Often hopeless,
Feeling useless,
Deprived of drive
To live and thrive.

Logic and experience
Tell us it will end,
But still no end in sight.

Tell me, friend,
Describe your mind,
Its worries, fears,
Frustrations.

I offer you
All that I have:
Take courage,
Compassion and caring,

An eager ear
To hear your hurt,
And silly soul
To heal your heart.

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The Anti-Poem - Quinn Tyler Jackson

I wrote a poem ...
hardly much,
not worth a reader's time,

on this and that
and so and such:
hardly worth the rhyme.

I crafted words
with iambs, pauses,
and made the damned thing mete,

but for all my
gawdamned meter,
I stumbled at the feet.

While Bobby Burns
and Byron, Lord,
both had so much to say,

and Shelley, Wordsworth,
and their lot
could rhyme my rhyme away.

e'en e.e. cummings
god forbid
without a single comma

could make my verses
roll and fumble
and snuff their stupid drama

But damn it all,
the poem is mine,
all writ by mine own hand,

so even though
it's trite and small
by the damned thing I'll stand.

I do not claim
to know the muse
in all her fickle fury,

and wrote my stupid
anti-poem
though my eyes were weary.

I wrote a poem ...
hardly much,
not worth the paper 't s'on,

it's not Lovelace,
nosiree,
not half so pale and wan.

But though the critic
in me says
i'm just a versing slob,

I'm not so stupid
as to quit
my breadwinning day job.

And so, you see,
and here's the thing,
at least I wrote the beast,

while others pined
and moaned and cussed --
I wrote the thing at least.

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Mothers' Day - Kay Lindgren

All night, I heard the foxes' frantic barking,
the bullfrogs' grave prediction of a judgement.
In the owls' incessant ululations was an epic
longer than the night, a myth warbled at warp speed.
It had to reach an end before day broke.

Now the sun has risen, a golden bubble
bobbing on blue mountain crests
the way my mother's locket
once bounced on her chest.

I see her still, threading her soul
into her sewing machine, cutting me to fit
the pattern of her dream, shearing rough
seams of my fabric. I was never sure
she loved me. Her scissors were too swift.
Her needle was too pointed.
Her thread bound me too tightly.

I see her pewtered waves in the clouds
that ply the sky above the campus.
Do they ferry souls out of this world?
My class reunion nears its end.
Newly polished friendships gleam
on a shelf of my heart like treasures
found at a yard sale.

I have done it - trekked through tangled trails,
looking for blaze-orange markers tied to synapses,
not sure I'd find my way out of anmesiac woods.
I have done it -- trampled through bramble
without tripping, snaring memories like rabbits.
I have kicked the thorns away.

I sit in the silver light of Sunday morning,
feeling maternal warmth radiate
from brick facades. The West Dell
sinks in a foothill, like a mastectomy scar.

A sizzle of applause sears my ears:
one doomed woman's hands
have been clapping for twenty-five years.
It is her! I know that it is her.
She knows that I have done it.
I have kicked the thorns away.

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Legion of Honor - David Ellis

Walleyed sable
rescues capsized
dummies within
the breakwater,
far below
our grand
cliffside entrance:

Cardini, in a pleasure
palace, produces silks
onstage. His cigarette,
lit, unlights
as cocktail shakers
vanish,

Deprive him of both
tobacco and martini,
this master of manual
manipulations.

Outside, a bay view
reveals the Golden
Gate in perfect
Art Deco style.

Overshadowed
by such beauty,
and shaded
by Eucalyptus,
the Holocaust Memorial:

A reminder
from less artful
and more brutal
history.

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To My Mother * - Wallace W. Rhodes

I am the blue skies of an Autumn morn,
And the myriad flowers of a golden field;
The lofty wind roaming the treetops’ hues,
As eternal loves to time shall never yield.

Yes, gaze upon what I am, my mother,
And know when the meadows are touched with dew.
Such are the tears I lay upon the earth;
My purest tears of joy, I save but for you.

Autumn shall always be a special stage,
Where scenes of life forever come and go.
So listen to the wind in golden leaf.
Feel the eternal upon you I bestow.

But when rime glimmers in the hidden dales;
Ice hangs from gnarled fingers of barren trees.
Woods silent beneath their blanket of white.
All life rest in quiet and placid ease.

Wait, my dear mother, for I shall return.
I, Autumn, which you labored birth of life,
So I might give you my fall colors of love;
And abide your life, forever, free from strife.

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Prisoners of Love - Paul Nachbar

Just prisoners of love
Don't be obstinate,relax, don't struggle

Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness?
Hmmm
Just prisoners of love
Dont' be obstinate,relax, dont' struggle.

Liberty, equality, fraternity?
Hmmm
Just prisoners of love
Don't be obstinate, relax, dont' struggle.

Long live the Republic and Revolution of Whatever?
Hmmm
Just prisoners of love
Dont' be obstinate,relax, don't struggle.

Progress, Evolution, Science and the Wave of the Future?
Hmm
Just prisoners of love
Don't be obstinate,relax,don't struggle.

Tradition, Authority, Faith, Law and the Examples of the Past?
Hmm
Just prisoners of love
Dont' be obstinate, relax,dont' struggle.

Being and Nothingness and The Existential Void?
Hmmm
Just prisoners of love
Don't be obstinate,relax, don't struggle.

The way of the elite,urban and/or highbrow stuff?
Hmmm
Just prisoners of love
Dont' be obstinate, relax,don't struggle

The way of the middle and suburban stuff?
Hmm
Just prisoners of love
Don't be obstinate, relax,dont' struggle.

The way of the common, country and/or barnyard stuff?
Hmmm
Just prisoners of love
Don't be obstinate,relax, don't struggle.

The same and the different?
Hmm
Just prisoners of love
Don't be obstinate,relax, don't struggle.

The ways of competition and cooperation?
Hmmm
Just prisoners of love
Don't be obstinate,relax, dont' struggle.

The ways of the this and the that?
Hmm
Just prisoners of love
Don't be obstinate, relax, don't struggle.

Just prisoners of love
Don't be obstinate, relax, don't struggle.
(there are worse things that can happen)

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Post Mother's Day Poem - Paul Nachbar

I must confess
I've blamed you for
A lot of things quite rotten
I'm sure of course
The two of us
Did not always
Quite cotton
But do not think
That on this list
The good
I have forgotten.

When I was ten
I labored hard
Upon a silly poem
Which you placed
On your mantelpiece
(well,this was well , before
Noam..
Eliot, Chaucer, Baudeliare too
Proust and Kafka
To name a few
Throw in the other worldly knowledge
Pre and during and post college
And all, well,ye and all the rest;
I am a man
And think sometimes
We've all failed
Some Big Test.

So many things
Have altered here
One wanders what we did?
I bear the world upon my back
And sometimes here with dread
But here I say
For good and bad
And time can be a curse
Most things have gotten better here
And few have gotten worse
So here ,well Happy Mother's Day
And nothing here will rid
One day at least it's clear to say
I'm still your little kid
(uh, from Paul, your only one?)_
Love

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SVART PÅ VITT - Peter Ingestad (Krax)

En människas öde blir skrivet
i svart på sitt vita blad
- men döden skuggar ju livet
med åren i stigande grad.

Du tror ingenting! Du har styrkan
att själv möta livets krav!
- Snart nog blir det ändå kyrkan
som bäddar dig ner i din grave

...means: regarding my authorship sufficiently proved, I claim no copyright
whatsoever. I want this poem to be freely published just anywhere, but it
may be advisable keeping the attachment "@ Peter Ingestad". - If I remember
correctly, this poem is already on the web, eventually producing a nice
google hit.

- Krax aka Peter Steading aka Schizotype. ;o)

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Who Ruled Judea - Jon Marin

who ruled Judea
When the Lord was the Psalmist's shepherd?
Name one of Athens' tyrants
From the time of Socrates and Plato,
Or the emperor at Rome
When Catullus honed his passion into verse.

Can you name a tycoon from the time
When Burns's lyrics
Made the English king cry uncle?
Or perhaps a financier from the days
When "Danny Boy" subdued the House of Lords?

When Robert Service prospected the Arctic
What mogul struck a mother lode?
Who was president
When Mark Twain wrote Huck Finn?
Who was the richest man in Germany
When Beethoven wrote his Ninth;

The bruises left by finger tips
Stand proud as medals.
The blood from wounds
Slit open by fingernails
Dries to form a Coat of Arms.
Creators of imagery and insight
Are elect among humankind.
All the rest are on the path of Ozynandias;
It is for them to be depressed.

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Election Year Ditty - Jon Marin

You’ve given us the country and you can’t get it back
Forget it – there is nothing you can do
You might as well give up my friend, the cards are all stacked Just hope we get your neighbor and not you.

We are guided by a very simple rule
Only half the population need be fooled
We cut taxes for the rich
We shunted healthcare to the ditch
We’re the people who brought hunger back to school

If global warming inundates our shore
Camp out inland, there’s no right to live indoors
Boy, it really gets us peeved
When weeping parents act aggrieved
That we led a trusting country into war

Ten more million folks ain’t got their health insured
Illness needing stem-cell research won’t be cured
When lives were on the line
We gutted safety in the mine
I killed overtime that helped the working poor

You’ve given us the country and you can’t get it back
Forget it – there is nothing you can do
You might as well give up my friend, the cards are all stacked Just hope we get your neighbor and not you.

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Kite Flight - Kathleen Cesaro

The wind is a bully,
shoving me around...
and around.

Tethered and unable
to escape, I pace
infinity into the sky.

A shackled jailbird,
even my cloth accomplice
has betrayed me.

So, I shall soar...
and wave to my captor
on the ground.

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Haiku - Hernan Chang

Warm and humid night,
Frogs with a raspy tree call
Waiting for the rain.

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Motherhood - Kathleen Cesaro

Miniature hands
enclose astonished finger,
wrapping me round hers

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Cassandra's Retirement* - Kathleen Cesaro

Living in the State of Flux,
from fitted gown and hair-free tux
to shirts of Swiss and faded jeans,
denied, essentially, of means.
Freedom's not, and that's the crux.

Taxing toddlers seldom near,
foreseen relief flawed by a tear.
Progeny in two-dimension,
Absence fosters clan declension.
Mother's face is in the mirror.

Caves and Craters now reside,
choked down and swallowed, deep inside.
Bent fingers itching for a task,
a ditch to dig is all they ask.
Cheated on this Carney Ride.

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Depression - Sas Phan-Valdez

At the end of the tunnel there is a light
Where being you again just feels right
The past is just a vauge dream
And happiness is only to be seen
A paradise on earth with friends and family
One day there you will be

No more pain no more tears
Wiped away from existence have been your fears
Forever and ever you will live and love
This is the message that comes from above

Based on;
Rev 21: 3,4

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The Journey - Sas Phan-Valdez

One day you finally knew what you had to do -- and you began.........

Though the voices around you kept shouting their bad advice --
though the whole house began to tremble and you felt the old tug at
your ankles -- "Mend my life!"

Each voice cried -- but you didn't stop.

You knew what you had to do -- though the wind pried with its stiff
fingers at the very foundations -- though their melancholy was
terrible!

It was already late enough -- and a wild night -- and the road full
of fallen branches and stones.

But, little by little -- as you left their voices behind -- the
stars began to burn through the sheets of clouds and there was a new
voice -- which you slowly recognized as your own -- that kept you
company -- as you strode deeper and deeper into the world --
determined to do the only thing you could do -- determined to save
the only life you could save.

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Good Fences - Paul Nachbar

Was it
The fences
Often the barbed wire fences
Literal and not
Between one thing and another
Between one person and another
Between one state and another
Between one state of persons and another
That existed here?
Which was the actual problem all too nasty to behold?

Or was this mostly my point of view
My baleful imagination, inclination towards the negative
A lie or distortion of statistics
Employed by one party or another?

Or- and i must also admit some culpability here
My somewhat antisocial (at times)
Or quite stubborn (at times)
Or- at least inconvenient
Dwelling on the distant past
Which we have most obviously
Much improved upon?

No, Mr Robert Frost,
Great American Poet:
You were not quite correct
If of course not completely wrong.
Good fences do
And do not
Make good neighbors.

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Snowballs in Hell - Paul Nachbar

We are snowballs here in hell
Sometimes that is too much
You fight back at 'whatever' here
Or they turn you to slush;

We are snowballs here in hell
And sometimes get too cold
I think that is there is some motive there
To end up rather old.

We are snowballs here in hell
And sometimes get too hot
That's great I think at certain times
And sometimes really not.

We are snowballs here in hell
Which often is unpleasant,
At least though you got to be heard
Not like the average peasant.

We are snowballs here in hell
And it is hard to thrive
I guess we'd want to change the world
But best just stay alive.

We are snowballs here in hell
No matter what you do
Think things have gotten better here
With all these "points of view"?

We are snowballs here in hell
That's most of what I've seen
Think things will get much better here
Black Red or Brown or Green? ..

We are snowballs here in hell
And we strive for Ideal
Then bang our heads on 'Practical'
Oh life gets oh too Real!

We are snowballs here in hell
Beneath each other mask
Such documents do interest me
But such is not my task.

We are snowballs here in hell
However hard we strive
I'm honest now, are you not glad
That I am still alive?

We are snowballs here in hell
And yes some will dissent
Oh could you find a better place
One still must pay the rent.

We are snowballs here in hell
From A to Z and back
There is a talent to complain
But they say "don't look back".

We are snowballs here in hell
Well no one is to blame
I too am guilty of harsh stuff
Alas, often the same.

We are snowballs here in hell
A not so cozy place
Have I here not misled you too
To tread about disgrace?

We are snowballs here in hell
Well, someone cried out "mush!"
Oh wise here to resist such words?
Or best to push and push?

We are snowballs here in hell
Well this can drive one mad
Think one can find a better time
Or just be Mom or Dad?

We are snowballs here in hell
I hesitate or bless
Although I've done some other things
I also have my mess.

We are snowballs here in hell
Beneath, about, above
I guess we fell into some trap..?
But there is also love.

We are snowballs here in hell
I guess such is The World
And I reside here in this place
Both lionized and squirreled.

We are snowballs here in hell
Both different and the same
Beneath fine flurries of my stuff
You sort of glad I came?

We are snowballs here in hell
And verse limps on and on
I wanted here to change all things
And so, well, must be gone..?

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Depression Given Indigestion - Kathleen Cesaro

You can't recall when last you slept,
there's not a day you haven't wept.
Affection? You're not in the mood.
You haven't touched a single food.

The phone, unanswered, starts to ring
again; you do not hear the thing.
You're numb and sad, it never ends.
You might be lost, if not for friends.

The monster that resides in you
feigns sympathy; it isn't true.
He dines upon the good you feel.
To him, you're nothing but a meal.

There is a crumb that's a la carte;
it's love from friends, inside your heart.
With every prayer, it gathers clout,
and soon will drive the diner out.

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Let Silence Speak - Dr. Greg Grove

Let silence speak
Through cycles of rife
Struggle or strife
Canton of life.

Let silence speak
Through terrors of night
Plunder or plight
Canton of fright.

Let silence speak
Through ancients of soul
Trickster or troll
Canton of knoll.

Let silence speak
Through spirits of God
Friend or fraud
Canton of laud.

In the poem I attempt to give voice to silence and its multidimensional outpourings. Both "good" and "bad" are extolled. The paradoxes of life must seek resolution through the messages that come through silence. It is our job to acknowledge them. Whether we value them, or even understand them, is personal. Each of us receives what is necessary through their presence.

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Rotten-Dot-Com - Kay Lindgren

Why watch TV when all the news is bad,
when species vanish, children starve in Chad,
and prisoners are tortured in Baghdad?

Turn off the doom and gloom of Dan and Tom.
Zoom to the Web and click on rotten-dot-com.

Since 1996, Pure Evil rules,
spits in foam rubber faces of film ghouls,
unmasks Death's real face. No April Fools:

The exquisite corpses here are actual.
The horror stories are all factual.

Meat grinder makes ground round of toddler's arm.
On rotting flesh, the worms and blowflies swarm.
A faceless man sips cola flat and warm.

And now, the one distressed by evening news
drowns in the blacks instead of in the blues!

Jumping from the drastic to the dire,
halved memory now seeks a truth entire -
something about a frying pan and fire.

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Vagrant Vagaries - Kay Lindgren

If moods were buildings, mine would be a shack
of rotting wood. (The bathroom is out back.)
Barred from the Palace of Queen Joy, no Jack
of Diamonds or Joker in my pack
of fifty deuces, I draw from the stack
the lowest number. Why do I lose track
of ceiling leaks and window panes that crack?
I thumb a ride, hope for a Cadillac,
but get left in the dust by every Mack
that barrels on toward Bedlam. My rucksack
is heavy with my musings blue and black...
Say, is there any good news from Iraq?

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For Old Time's Sake - Quinn Tyler Jackson

I here submit, a little poem that I have writ. It's nothing great, it's nothing grand, it's just a spider on a strand.

he's the shy
underneath of
spandrel insight
and gossamer cobwebs
until revisions escapade
beyond swirls

he's the unkempt
beside himself of
unworried mythologies
and precipitant hoarfrost
until reveries escalate
between worlds

he's the right bank
gypsy crawler slipping
from shadow vanities,
like narcissist copper
mirror into echoes
and mirages of
shoulder glances back

and when the spider touches
on the strand, escaping
estimation another
angled swan spreads its
phoenix form into
the ether of no
regret

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Early Morning's Random Thoughts - Kathleen Cesaro

Good morning, World. Good morning PGS.
Yes, I know. We are included in the world. Sort of.
Doesn't it sometimes seem like PGS
is this far-off little island, a part of the world, but... not?

Like, out there, it's cold, and vicious animals are
snapping at each other in the empty dark... and
here, there is a warm welcome, it's cozy and...safe.
Hmm, Palmy Grove Sanctuary for a species at risk.

We can't live here. There is food only for thought.
There are those we love unable to make the journey.
So we bravely venture out to connect with the rest of the world,
return when we need to, and write about what we've seen.

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Grief - Kathleen Cesaro

Clawing through engulfing pain,
that chills like rain,
from monstrous beast that can't be true!
Clawing through...

Damn the cause, excuse is lame,
who is to blame?
To crush my world without a pause...
Damn the cause!

Oh, to see this tiny part...
I'll trade my heart,
this gaping pit. Where can she be?
Oh, to see!

Who are we to taste the light,
tell wrong from right,
deny a truth we cannot see?
Who are we?

I believe that Angel Wings,
redeeming things,
can come from death, although we grieve.
I believe.

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The Great Chinese Wall - (Dusty)Wallace W. Rhodes, Ph.D.,P.E.

The Great Chinese Wall
Worthless but for walking on
What a waste of bricks

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Marx Socialism - (Dusty)Wallace W. Rhodes, Ph.D.,P.E.

Marx Socialism
Herds of infected follow
Spreading more disease

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Sand, Beards, Rags on Pates - (Dusty)Wallace W. Rhodes, Ph.D.,P.E.

Sand, beards, rags on pates
Hundreds of years of jabber
To invent zero

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November's Song - Kathleen Cesaro

Iraq is bad / Iraq is good.
The Prez did things nobody should.
There's treachery and lies are told.
We know who bought, but who's been sold?

It all depends on who's in power,
who soon forgets their finest hour.
We put 'em in, we take 'em out.
Decisions made by loudest shout.

Since Justice now can be denied;
we jail up men who've not been tried.
The Rule of Law the Fathers taught.
Democracy is what we bought.

The masses can't be all that bright,
to offer up our kids to fight
a war that makes the hatred grow.
The winds of change are sure to blow.

And come oh-eight, what will we hear?
"It's time to kick our butts in gear
and lose this guy who's been so bad.
Let's swing the other way a tad

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Oh, Find Me a Serum - Quinn Tyler Jackson

Oh, find me a serum
that proves this here theorem,
a quid that pros my quo,
and now more than likely
ever so politely
some axiom will show.

Just find me some Latin
I can quote verbatim
nil nisi, ex nihil,
or such … and then lithely
sprinkle some Greek lightly,
send it to a journal.

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Ergo-nomics - Quinn Tyler Jackson

Homomorphism is a fine word,
I’d hardly ever use
In a Lemma or a Proof
Aimed at the obtuse.

Pumping Lemmas won’t make juice,
But quickly prove a point,
Showing ones are really twos,
For they are disjoint.

QED is not for me;
I prefer a small square,
Though it is less far Latinee,
It shows the proof ends there.

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Your Breath Sends - Daniele Pinna

Your breath sends
shivers down my spine
caressing
each strung-taught hair;
tuning each
violin string to
high pitch notes,
to gentle sins
of dew blessed
white roses plucked
firmly out of
their earthly
bosom: chalice
of rosen,
black soul-bled tears.
They all flush
my fears and pains
sinking them
to the molten
firmament,
tampering time's
march through this
barren land of
breeze-shaped bumps
heated by this
feeble heart:
ecstatic to
such soft dabs.

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Think Here Of - Paul Nachbar

Think here of hope, of pleasure and of bliss
No more of pain and anguish, the abyss
Who knows what brought this misery
And then The Guilt Trip A through Z?
Of all God's Things you are a Fraction
(a public service message brought to you by the good folks..at)
Utilitarianism in Action!

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The Sparrow with the Broken Wing - J. R. Simons

You came to us a sparrow with a broken wing.
We took you to our hearts
And warmed you by our hearth
And taught you how to sing.

But your little wing we could not heal
Despite our patience and our zeal,
So we sought the help of one
Who only helps little birds like you,
And with skillful hands,
Guided skillfully from above,
He knew just what to do.

You have a fighting chance now, little bird,
To fly with all the other little sparrows.
And when the time comes
To leave our nest,
Much too soon to seek your own way,
Know that we have given you our best,
A wing on loan from an angel
For you to soar on each and every day.

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Death Came to Gotham - J. R. Simons

Death came to Gotham on a clear blue cloudless morn
In winged missiles,
Steel dragons guided by madmen drunk on religious fervor.
No one knows why he came that day,
But come he did.
Steel dragons pierced twin towers,
Pillars of prosperity in Metropolis.
Flames shot from nostrils wet with raging fuel.
Heat immeasurable undid blocks and mortar,
Sinking towers that had stood tall and defiant against the wind.
O, Gotham, where is your Dark Knight now?
O, Metropolis, why has the Caped Crusader forsaken you?
O, Death you have taken your toll.
O, Death you are a force to be reckoned with.
But, Death, be not proud,
For fear has no power o'er hearts filled with freedom's song.
Death, you can take a body, but you'll never claim a soul.
Death, you can kill a symbol, but you'll never kill its meaning.
Death, we stare you in the face and laugh.
We defy you with our arrogance.
What did you take with you that day you came to Gotham?
Nothing more than hollow souls that had already died;
Steel dragon pilots whose souls you already owned.
I pity you, Death.
You came to Gotham looking for some souls to steal,
But only came away with dust
In your hands
In your eyes
In your nostrils
In your ears
In your mouth.
We walk in your shadow,
But we see the light of day.
Death, go home.
Come not to Gotham anymore.
Metropolis has no room for you.

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Yes - Thomas (Torg de Tomas) Hadley

Yes, Quinn:

your wit so writ lifts me mind
'tis grace you lend
in your words so kind
woven in the warp 'n' weft
like dreams re-carded

spun
an' made into a coat
to keep the chill
off me nape
an' toasty-warm me bones

Gina's novena moves me
to mind a prayer
for all of us who fret
strive 'n' scurry here
'n' there

wondering at wonders
crafting a rhyme
trying to capture
magic
labouring to
make up Time
stop in a bottle
essence in a flask

often spillin' a bit o'er the brim
yet such is our task
like drainin' honey
from a wildbeehive
unmindful at first
of all the wee stings
we self-inflict or imagine:

we're alive
and reaching
in sun or gloom
searching, teaching, learning
or like me
who cannot see the forest
for the trees

at times
wishing to convey
peace, joy
if only for a moment...

as the welcomed pause lent by Katie

reminded me to say
bask in its Moment
whether in wan or brilliant glory
'tis your Word you must ever speak!

Blessings Be~

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All - Thomas (Torg the Graped) Hadley

ALL:
{I pause}
[caesura]:
::=::
snow+white
wrong+write
plaint=if
co+mensurate
moon=sun
we=one
flare=not there...

yo soy un hombre sincero
de los terra de los pinyos de la norte fresco
yo soy uno gringo poetico
con palabras magnifi'cas y de las pobrecitas....

por todos :: for all
My path leads to Boquete, Panama'.
I shall, despite all burdens, lead my family to Boquete'. This is my
conviction.
Amerika sucks the life from a
Human BEing. Look!
Around you, all around you, just NOW!
Strip Malls...Commercial Assailants...
Buy, Be Sexy, You Lack!, [this] hole needs ATE+TENSION!
(oh, PLEASSEEEE, just stop it! NOW!)
Your Taxes must Rise.
you must PAY if you die....
there is an EX
IT
taxation, to provide for the Others'
relaxation, ('cuz they're not Dead Yet).
(another voice says, "Chuck all that!"):>
Who does one harken to?
(a pause here: a breath, a space, a
hawking out of plebeian obstructionism):
LOOK: visit RETIREnPANAMA@yahoogroups.com


So, start your discovery Process!
Could we ALL end up in Paradiso?
I think so. Search for yourSELF.
I'm going there. I will stay!
Coffee, parrots a' la' Conure "Wild!!",
'orchids' hanging from the trees....
perfume, a' la haggolandas muchas!
a Market, a People, a WAY!
Screw renting a DVD. LIVE!!!
Go to the Marketplace. Go to the Mozart Cafe'.
Go to the Tea'tro. Just GO, SEE,BE, ?DO>!
Alors, mes amis! Pagen~ez attention, s'il vous-plait.
(with no carr0t)...
Surf, and Respondez-vous, s'il vous-plait...(no up carr0t).
Imagine all of Us in Boquete, living as one, but separately.
Volunteering in schools, making our Own Skools. Imagination is only
cut short by self-limitations Limits. Do you limit yourself?
why////?????? but, why? You cannot defend self-limitation.
Ever.
Suspend Impossibility.
Believe in What CAN be.
Abide in Factuality,
which abides within Belief Unsuspecting...
May your Path unfold without Bending
by Your Self,
all of which is Not Withstanding....
'les your understanding
is witholding of the Glaze of
Misunderstanding...

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PGSerz: Saludas! - Thomas (Tomas el Gringo Poetico) Hadley

PGSerz: Saludas!
An unattributed quote from a family friend follows:
"Life is not a journey with the intention of
arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body;
but rather to skid in sideways, thoroughly used up,
totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming,

"Wow! What a ride!"
As I ponder upon this
I reflect, and embrace it!
Saddle up, amigos: let's ride!
"Badges? We don't need no stinking badges!"
[movie: Treasure of the Sierra Madre]

R.S.V.P.

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Poor Man Richard's Haiku - Quinn Tyler Jackson

I

Patience out my nose,
Cherry bead of apathy,
Last smoke in my pack.

II

Two and two make four,
Five and six make eleven,
Simple addition.

III

Stitch in time saves nine,
Penny saved is penny earned,
Benjamin laughs now.

IV

Standing stark and cold
My matchstick haiku titles,
Roman numerals.

V

Nostrils, count them: two.
A handkerchief's lifelong friend,
Dylan sings through it.

VI

Time to stir and walk
To the corner store with cash
Last smoke finished now.

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Mikrosoft - FÖrgyller - Internet - Dikten - Peter Ingestad (Krax)

.NET Passport-tjänsten är inte tillgänglig just nu på den här webbplatsen
beroende på något av följande:

Webbplatsen kan innehålla ett fel som påverkar .NET Passport-tjänsten. Det kan ha blivit ett tillfälligt fel på .NET Passport-tjänsten. Webbplatsen kanske inte är en officiell .NET Passport-webbplats.

Gå tillbaka till den här webbplatsen senare eller försök igen.

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Senryu - Kathleen Cesaro

Barefoot, across a
lush forest's fuzzy carpet...
uh-oh, rolling stones!

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