Category: Poetry

By: Justin Oberg

Time was of no consequence

                      Our feet found each other,

                               Under the comforter of earth,

                      Tired and thirsty

                              And slowly entwined.

We shared the cover

          The tight space

The wet soul sustaining us

And day after day

          Together we grew

And day after day

           I watch the sun

Rise and set

                   And light your brilliant

Leaves; green eyes.

Not even our nature

              To grow straight and tall

Could keep us from each other

              We lean, forever touching

Gently, our branches lock

          In a lipless embrace.

This earthly heaven

              Where

Time is of no consequence.

By: alumahead

 

Going

Down,

Going

Down,

Going Downtown.

 

Gonna See My Gal,

Going Downtown.

Hope she wanna

go down,

go down,

go Downtown, too.

Red lights blinking,

Car out of gas,

Still wanna go Downtown.

Think of my Baby,

Locked the keys in the car,

Man, I gotta get

Downtown!

Baby got legs,

Tall, Soft, and Lean,

Like a highway to heaven

they go all the way up…….to Downtown.

Man,

I Gotta get my ass Downtown!

 

Gotta get on the bus,

That’ll cure this lust,

Gotta make it all the way Downtown.

Fourteenth and Main,

Gonna free this strain,

If I ever get to make it,

Downtown.

I’m Gonna wrap those legs

All around my head

and buzz down that landing strip

like Clitty-Clitty-Bang-Bang on a carnival ride,

Like a face rocket on a Mission,

with the Starship Enterprise bucking-and-a-shaking,

“She’s coming unhinged, Cap’n!”

“I need more power, Scotty!”

Then, I’ll get that scrambled transmission from way down below,

“She’s about to blow, Cap’n!”

“Just give me one more minute, Scotty!……with VIGOR!”

Yep, I’m gonna treat that sweet thing

Like a hound dog treats

A peanut butter jar,

‘Til there’s nothing left to do,

but lay back and blow smoke-rings from an after-fuck cigarette

………Downtown.

 

 

By: Marc O’Leary

We all have stories, some are bittersweet and sad,

Others a bounty- all full of excitement and joy,

all are worthy, and should be readily told,

none were meant to shy away and hide.

As every life is worthy of living,

For it makes each of us who, and what we are,

and why – it is, these stories most often come

from somewhere deep inside

developed within our own personal mold.

So never be shy, nor ever think

your stories are unworthy of being told.

So take that step or take a stand,

be bold, tell your stories far and wide.

Always full of pride! For all our times draw nigh,

So do not allow time to pass you by, tell your stories now.

Before one day all too soon, they could be seen,

as the nonsensical ramblings, of someone now,

who is seen as being much too feeble and olde.

As for your stories- they will forever remain-

your stories forgotten – gone untold.

 

By: Eric Gray

 

It’s a gnarled path through the thick woods

The nights are cold and lonely

This often visited place sees few

A world within a world

I escape to this land

Waiting for another

To create life force

As a reflection of us.

 

As I roam, see past places

Forged by people long gone

I’m on an island,

Or still in the woods?

This place changes like a dream.

 

Is it real?

hard to tell

what’s real and what is not

Where does Truth become Lie?

Where does Reality meet Imagination?

 

This plane can’t be touched with hands

But it can be felt through them.

In the medium through which true connections felt,

You can be heard without ever opening your mouth.

Felt by all, acknowledged by few.

I will forever roam this place.

 

By: Rowe Lindsay Rowe

 

When he sees my

horse-of-another-color

poem of tired, worn out phrases,

beating a dead horse,

my professor will be

madder than a wet hen

but I’m not afraid of him:

he’s all bark and no bite.

 

Good writers refrain from using clichés and

have a way with words;

they can find a way to make their readers

hang on every word;

I just want to be finished, because

all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy

even though I have been told that

idle hands are the devil’s workshop.

 

Thoughts of another – pre-encapsulated

easy as 123

I will finish early and

take the easy way out.

I thought about rewriting this poem completely

starting from scratch

and changing every line, but I didn’t want

to throw the baby out with the bathwater.

 

 

 

By: Rowe Lindsay Rowe

 

Today

I have been instructed

that certain numbers are “significant”

and certain numbers are not

when measuring,

weighing,

calculating,

or otherwise

quantifying existence.

 

Sometimes zero matters

and sometimes it does not,

so sometimes nothing is important;

and nothing

is something,

but nothing can also

just

be

nothing.

 

I occasionally am

(negative infinity – positive infinity)

but

I am

more often

0

and cannot tell if

I

am supposed to be

nothing

or

something.

 

 

By: Rose Lindsay Rowe

 

the day my father’s remains were put in the ground

it did not rain

nor was it gloomy

it wasn’t especially beautiful either.

 

it just was.

 

a mediocre day;

a mediocre life.

 

he was surrounded by

family

(who didn’t really know him)

and

friends

(who only knew how to take advantage of him)

 

and

someone

(who didn’t know him at all)

who hollowed out a small, square opening in the earth

and in it carefully placed the gray, cardboard box

containing what was left of my father’s corporeal self

then replaced the dirt

and gently tamped down the sod he had previously peeled away

 

and if a person walked by

five minutes after we had all departed

that soul would not have known

that someone was just buried beneath that very spot

 

so no one could tell the difference

that he had died at all

or even really lived.

 

RIP Ray Albert Weaver  Dec. 10, 1956- Dec. 27, 2006

 

By: Elwood McClarity

 

God’s angry.

We are all sinners.

He’s gonna have to kick the shit out of somebody.

But the heavenly Father is also reasonable and loving.

He doesn’t want to have to kick the shit out of EVERYONE.

So he sent his son Jesus, who never did anything wrong.

God kicked the shit out of Jesus so he wouldn’t have to kick the shit out of us.

As it is written in the good book, “Better him than me.”

And so we give thanks to the Father,

Who demonstrated his divine justice by beating an innocent man to death.

By the way, if you don’t accept God’s love, he’ll torture you forever.

 

By: Brice

 

Reframing of the me

Of the We

Of my importance and power

 

Universe waits

Every minute

Every hour

 

When will i awaken and

Activate

The Great I am?

 

How long must you wait for You

To arrive?

 

How long must You wait for me to

Come alive?

 

How long will it take for We

To revive?

 

When will you awaken and

Activate

The Great I am?

 

Let now be the time

For me to

Awaken –

So the We

So the You

Can all be taken

To the highest

To the greatest of

The Great I am

 

When will we awaken and

Activate

The Great I am?

 

By: Nuzhat Mehrin Khan

 

I found peace,

Whenever  I came near to you.

I found my existence,

Which I had forgotten.

I remembered you in the

Season of grief,

Whenever I was sad because of loneliness

I remembered you.

Beware heart!

You are falling in love once again.

Heart, stop right there

You are falling in love once again.

I don’t know why this happened,

I have often passed this lane

Where your house is

May be my heart had it that

I might meet you there.

I don’t know

What is the chain of events?

When there is nothing between us then

Why does heart weave our dreams?

I wanted to forget you.

But even that proved impossible,

I don’t know what this feeling is.

Beware heart!

You are falling in love once again.