Unexpected Passion
By: Nosphio
It hurts.
It’s big.
It burns.
It’s fast.
It’s big.
Your flood.
It’s fast.
I cringe.
Your flood.
It burns.
I cringe.
It hurts.
Category: Poetry
Shaved Legs
By: Jackie Anderson
When did women start shaving their legs?
Before you go” Shaved legs, really?”
Let me explain the pain and nuisance it is to shave your legs
It is a chore in itself you have to sit or stand and try not to cut the hell of out of your legs
Nobody wants to look like leper, Even though leopard spots are pleasing to the eye.
One night I was watching the “Sundance channel” and one of there “Historians” said
women have only been shaving their legs since the 1920-30’s.
My
Mind
Was
Blown
To think women have only been in the habit of shaving must have flown over people’s heads for decades.
In 1915 all of the ad companies came together and decided to wage war on under arm hair.
The campaign was made to make women start shaving their under arm hair.
They chalked it up to clothing being shorter and sheerer.
And then women’s legs were the next frontier.
Some say we could blame Betty Gable for donning short shorts in a pin up advertisement.
But that would be a lame to blame just one person.
It was a sign of the times.
And women finally got to wear pants.
While making men pant.
In the end it’s not a bad thing, we live in Florida where it’s hot as hell most of the year. Women are better off shaving their legs.
To Ride the Lighting
By: Nophio
Towards all hellbound souls,
the thrusts of thunder in
bright uniform,
the something like universal emeralds,
the sheen of
forever with a Terra-green ignorance.
To speak one truth,
lies must fight at the frontline,
towards all
hellbound souls.
The biology that speaks such truth in lies,
the false hope that crumbles like
porcelain,
the symbiotic nature to preserve the kind,
the traits in all of us and strait as a dart.
To keep the temporary peace,
war must be forever present,
towards all
hellbound souls.
The babushka nightmares that scares us in sleep,
the final pounce of the
strong arm that chokes,
the precocious discharge of our collective
lifeline,
the fibula that creaks before the break.
To fight for justifiable honor,
scorn must deliver the
motivation,
towards all hellbound souls.
The living just for breathing,
the fall from the Chair of Saints,
the
experience of shame through a broken promise,
the suicide of life is an omega
release.
To explore the glory of faith,
zealous belief mustn’t embrace
fear,
towards all hellbound souls.
In the light of Him and the grace of breath,
we have not the right to claim
stakes to life,
so this goes towards all who choose to ride the
lightning,
towards all hellbound souls.
Flor
By: Hazel Young
Tú eres como una rosa roja
Que es bonita
Pero te puede a ser daño
En segundos
Te quiero mucho, pero me rompiste el
Corazón
Con las espinas que me enterraste
Las gotas de sangre me están
Saliendo de los ojos
Por la tristeza que me hiciste
Eres como una rosa roja, bella y brillante
Te amo para siempre
Nunca te voy a olvidar
Porque eres el único que me agarraste mi alma
Con tu mirada
Flower
You are like a red rose
That is beautiful
But can cause damage
In seconds
I love you a lot
But you broke my
Heart
With the thorns that you stabbed in me
I cry tears of blood
From the sorrow
You are like a red rose
Beautiful and bright
I love you forever
I’ll never forget you
Because you were
The only one
Who grabbed my soul
With your eyes
Zombies
By: Kevin Keys
They rise from morgue tables and car crashes
They’ll bite off your face and eat your eyes
They aren’t the creatures of voodoo curses
They’re ravenous bastards that crave human flesh
They’ll bite off your face and eat your I’s
Their lives cut short and death suspended
They’re ravenous bastards that crave human flesh
They’re neither alive nor dead; walking corpses rent free their souls
Their lives cut short and death suspended
They aren’t the creatures of voodoo curses
They’re neither alive nor dead; walking corpses rent free their souls
They rise from morgue tables and car crashes
Vacation to Syndication
By: Michael Martini
Switch on your TV and follow me
to a place where they’ll all know our names.
Where “three’s company” and we’ll make a “full house”
even so they’re all glad that we came.
“Step by Step” we’ll find out “who’s the boss” of the tube
as we dine with “the king of queens”
Become “bosom buddies” with Carrie and Doug
while we watch Tony Danza clean.
So turn on your TV and come with me
as we “taxi” from station to station.
from Bel-air to Lanford and back again
in the timeliest of fashion.
We’ll go from “perfect strangers” to the best of “friends”
in a little under an hour.
Just a flick of the wrist and we’re “married with children”
all thanks to some battery power.
So turn on your cable if you’re willing and able
and know that we’re “mad about you”
it’s “the facts of life” that you’ll never be “Lost”
with “Charles in Charge” of you.
“Seinfeld” and “Frasier” “George Lopez”, “Roseanne”
“Will and Grace” and even “Black Adder”
We’re “All in the family” together my friend
And it’s only the “Family [that] Matters”
Acid Angels
By: Brooks Kennedy
Dreams of day-trippers turned acid angels
Flipped the pages of my mind
Strung out Hipsters
Dying in Dumpsters
Dope heads dragging along shadows
Through fields of hazy grass
Borrowing the sixties
Into a modern demise
Realization occurred
When I awoke
And opened my eyes
These angel trippers
Leary and Thompson
Only angels because
They symbolized the trip
The terrifying trip
Trips we all endure
Life and Love
Wolf Bait
By: Stacy Murphy
Everything about me
everything you want
My lips, my eyes
Cunt to clavicle
it’s all a trap of my father’s design.
You seem like a nice wolf
and it sure is a shame
The things I have to do to you
But a girl’s gotta eat,
you know?
You seem so sweet
so don’t you think
you should be on your way?
See, we’re almost through the woods
and I can see Gramma’s place up ahead
and if you just turn back now
everything could be ok.
I know what you want
you’re just like the others
bit there’s still time
before my father comes
although
you look so tasty
and a girl’s gotta eat,
you know?
Hear the rustle, Wolfie?
See the shaking trees?
Why didn’t you turn back?
It’s too late now
but it won’t hurt
my father’s fast
and it’s oh so sharp
and you seemed so sweet
but a girl’s gotta eat,
you know?
Life in the Light of Darkness
By: William Abel
entitled to death and no more the poor lay ravaged
disillusioned reality had brought this dissolution of vows
the reaper raps and laughs at the plea of the weak
put your faith in good and love and fate is what
life is but a final act in the beginning of existence
rested upon a truth failed and looking towards a promise
weak I resign to a fate of random chaos
but I am alive and still I dream and hope
Misty Hour
| By: Caleb Wendell Jordan |
Clouds descend
upon
a single boat, drifting unhurried through
the haze.
Mist envelops the currents, tides,
oceans.
I can touch the gray skies
which hang closely above my head
in the aether.
I push againt the mist
to uncover something beyond.
To have light paralyze me.
But it is not visible,
only the ominous shadows
in the distance exist
beside me.