Saturday 25 November 2017

animals

http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=1926184688050436448#allposts

THE MAN by monica

Monika
The man
There was once a man
Who looked at the moon and asked
"Is there anything I could ask,
that you can answer?"
There was no reply,
as expected.

The next morning, there was a dog.
The man crouched down
in front of the dog and asked
"What are you up to today?"
The dog walked past,
as expected.

In the afternoon, there was a girl.
She was sitting on a bench in the park.
The man sat beside her and asked
"Are you waiting for someone?"
She kept gazing at the sunset,
as expected.

Night falls in a pub in the city.
There's a drunken man, had many bottles.
The man approached him and asked
"Is something the matter?"
The man finally collapsed after too much drinks,
as expected.

Lastly, in a room there are antiques.
One is a mirror in an intricate frame.
The man looked at the mirror and asked
"How do you feel today?"
There was no reflection,
as expected.

Sunday 19 November 2017

poem-unnamed

                                                                     amanda
                                                          not an emergency
(but something to consider)



everything is fine.
no.worries.
it's just that

there is a d a r k n e s s
closing in
on the edges,

and lights swirl
in the p e r i p h e r y.

Friday 17 November 2017

learn

Susan Waigwa Oct 7
In humility learn to learn in all situations 
In tears learn servitude 
In silence learn to hear the inaudible 
In pain, learn gratitude 
When in doubt, learn to have faith

why do you call me? SUSAN WAIGWA

She looked at me, tears filling her eyes
With sobs, she whispered to me with her heart breaking
He said I am not good for him
He said that I was cold, a housewife material 
But not the kind of lady he would show to his friends
My crime was from my belief, I would not expose myself 
To any man unless my own husband. 

I comforted her and told her the Lord has a way of sorting out things

After 3 month's, he comes back, calls and writes her
She now asks, why does he call, why bother to write
He ended it all didn't he?
He failed to find that dream lady, who he can show to his friends 
He now wants me? I've moved on with my dignity intact

Girl, I told her, the good Lord has a way of sorting out things. Hang in there friend, your Prince is looking for you and he will find you, with your dignity intact

Thursday 16 November 2017

ATHEISM

Atheism I have lost faith in atheism,
that desiccated world with gone gods,
missing gods, no gods, not really

Not even an emaciated one stranded on a cliff in Croatia
stunted and silenced by howling winds of logic
Not even a god born when a star rises in the east
wise men riding refractory camels shepherds waiting in the wings
 I have lost faith in atheism, leaving me stranded desert worn, desert wasted

No Bach with stained glass windows wafts of incense stirring my soul.
Twenty one grams of stardust slowly wither in my breast
No bowing five times a day to Mecca or touching a mezuzah as I leave each morning
I have lost faith in atheism,
but my soul is stained with skepticism, shaken with disbelief

 I will fly to Croatia to find the last shriveled god in the corner of a dim cave
We will sing and pray and weep the world back into being
Then the gods, the gods will return
wending their way through rents in time
Gods of wisdom, of water, of wine.

Claire Scott

Tuesday 14 November 2017

HYPATIA

They attacked her in mid exploration
Cutting away her golden thoughts
As they cut away her flesh, destroying
A mind that they couldn’t destroy in
Debate, a sparkling old woman
Whose thoughts were spun from steel.

The screaming mob desecrated her tiny form
Dragging it into the dust, through the rubbish
And shit. Tearing off her clothes
The Parabalani exposed her to celestial winds crossing
The arora, rubbing 
Spoilt Alexandrian soil into her unexplored vagina.  
She did not die as a philosopher, calculating and
Learning, but, torn apart, the old woman
Screamed out for her father,
Terrified, in sacrificial pain so much worse
Than beheadings and crucifixion. Her modesty,
Kept for 60 years, mutilated by a 1000 killers in a single
Minute. 

Her head bounced in the forum,
Her arms thrown to the 4 corners,
Her soul stamped into the gutter,
As the new religion cried out for tolerance. 
In a morning thinking became forbidden
Books burnt, laughs ignored and fires built for heretics.
Hypatia was a female philosopher in Alexandria in the 4th century who was torn apart by a Christian mob, her skin scraped from her bones.

Saturday 11 November 2017

LindaAnn Lo Schiavo

Run-away Bride (or The Mermaid’s Lament)

Bree made a wish inspired by broke girls
In fairytales, not realizing then
Mist magic isn’t free. Before smoke curled
For dinnertime, she quit the sea for him.
Her human limbs are pale, not powerful
Like mermaids’ tails. They can’t kick hard enough,
Return Bree to the deep blue beautiful
Realm underwater, force that made her tough.
Their wedding lullabied anxiety
Away. Then moods wrecked her loveboat. And she’d
Draw baths, avoiding his society
To sink beneath, imagining seaweed,
That salt encrusted skin, fins, cool order
She’d dreamt of giving up. He built their pool.
The shoals and eddies of chlorined waters
Are hers to rule now, cruelly fooled.

Friday 10 November 2017

POUNDING

Pounding

written by: Emily Vieweg
@EmilyJVieweg

so i am sitting
resting
here in my pajama top a
t-shirt i earned
at take back the night
i see across my feed
13 thousand members in this group
#MeToo
#MeToo
#MeToo
there are too many to count
but already 13k comments.
i knew i wasn't alone before
when i told my story
at take back the night
and reliving my assault
made my hands sweat
my voice crack and my thighs
squeeze together
so i wouldn't let anyone in
even though
i spoke from a podium
at age 41
again i was 18
but the words were empty
rehearsed
for 22 years these words had baked
in my stomach in my face
in my glands held in tandem with
pleasant memories but tucked
in a pocket where feelings could not
penetrate
feelings for this are frightening
they are real but i must not allow them
power, this is my choice.
my story is mine, and the details
must be repeated
over and over
so the power stays in my fist
instead of on my face

predator

Predator

written by: LadyLily
@AFairymary

Saturday night, Shelton’s Shebeen.
Stony cellar steps,
silent goat stews,
rice and peas bubble.
Red Stripe running riot,
ring pulls froth,
rum with punch.
Float on Ganja spliffs,
Silver foiled, secret parcels
Moroccan Gold, Arab Black
sparkle dark corners.
A secret society...
everyone’s called ‘Man’.
Walls throb,
vibe, echo
as Marley Shoots the Sheriff,
ears clog with dynamite,
hash heads explode
igniting mystery tours.
Head wrecked,
Home-bound cockeyed walk
through dishevelled back door.
His body behind, a shark’s shadow.
Rotten hot breath percolates my ear.
Glass fragments shatter-sting, sharp.
Jagged edges
a whisker to my throat.
I am dead...but not.
I look ahead...
into dissembled reality,
a caricature world.
Black brick road,
a terrified Dorothy
click-clack stilettos
down Bindweed Street
sucking me under.
Dare not run,
as red ribbons will shred
over silver necklace.
Churned insides,
fear heart clings.
Thousand light bulbs...
Blow!
Shock robs my speech,
grip handbag like a saviour.
Grey mists eat me all around.
Charcoal hues leak from underground pits.
Ominous black clouds suffocate stars...
Crush! Crack! Grate!
Bare sky admits my defeat.
Victorian terraced prison door slam-locks.
Snap-happy photos cling
on carnation posy wallpaper.
Framed tapestry announces
‘Home Sweet Home.’...above
swarthy brown sofa,
signature burnt pock marks.
Solid wood sideboard
still despises the axeman.
Mantelpiece audience of
Royal Doulton ladies have the
best seats in the house.
Slave to a dishevelled brute,
bony hands claw over me,
his every breath a predator.
Legs violently jerk.
Monster’s gangrene poisoned fluid
pollutes my dead half.
The silence screams,
Tomcats rampant,
unleashed trashy tigers,
she-cats squeal and shriek.

Wednesday 8 November 2017

Megan Sherman/love and lyric

i was haunted and stalked by a stare
looked up your email and it wasn't there
stone in my stomach as i think what you'd say
of my faith and ideas, want me away

and even though that reflex is so hard to break
at least your smile persuaded me of a mistake
did you see an angel cry with a heart pure?
sobbing silent as you swung open the door

my style is distance, running away
but that's not a problem when you want to play
with your ocean eyes, in your hideaway
we'll vanquish hell and seize the day

Wednesday 1 November 2017

The Invaders Halloween 1967

The Invaders

Halloween 1967

written by: TM Arko
@terry.arko

Aliens inhabited human bodies and snuck around the world causing havoc and fear in 1967. There were a few humans who knew the secret and frantically tried to convince the yet to be inhabited ones. No one believed it until a seemingly human body became an ashy silhouette on the cold ground. If you shot, stabbed or even choked an invaded human body then poof ashes to ashes dust to dust right there before your eyes. This was the premise of a 1967 television show called ‘The Invaders’ and it scared the hell out of every red-blooded kid in America.  Everyone was suspect. That mean 5th grade teacher or the kid who never talked but always stared even your parents. It was a freaky time and every one was on edge. Who knows maybe aliens in human bodies were responsible for shooting JFK.
To make matters worse they showed War of The Worlds in the gymnasium of Annunciation Catholic School for the Saturday monthly movie. The reel to reel clicked and clacked while projecting creepy alien hands with suction cups to suck out your soul. Then those terrifying death rays that burnt everybody and left the same ashy figures like the dead Invaders. I choked on my red vine licorice whip. Not more than a week later, I had a nightmare about aliens coming for me. I was out on my street at night. The full harvest moon was like a giant glowing Sunkist orange with a face. It was shining behind the huge dark walnut tree at the end of the street. The dark walnut tree had dropped all of its nuts and leaves. Now it looked like a headless giant with a bunch of wicked arms and a ghoulish face in the middle of the trunk. That tree scared me on many occasions in reality when I would be riding my bike home at dusk. It would call my name in the darkness and threaten to swallow me into its massive dark roots. I could never peddle fast enough to get by it and I would sing Beatle songs as I went by to calm my fright.
“Good day sunshine, good day sunshine”…
In my nightmare, I saw something round with glowing lights flying across the moon and over the scary walnut tree. I immediately knew it was the Invaders and they were coming for me. I yelled for my dad and my mom, my brothers and my sisters. They all were gone. The neighbors were gone, the dogs and cats were gone. It was just the ghostly spaceship and me.  In the midnight hour, it buzzed and whined as it came towards me.  I tried to run with all of my might but my legs felt like mountains of lead. I tried to scream but it was silent like someone under water. I broke loose from the mountain legs and started moving.  Running with all of my might through backyards and vacant lots. Looking for bushes to hide in, but there were none. I ran down Peck Road all the way to the Mayflower Market. Everything was dark, everything closed and everything was dead. Then came the whining and flashing of the space ship above me. Then it released a War of The Worlds death ray right over me. Just before I was about to disintegrate I woke sitting up.  I was covered in sweat and panting as if I had just run a marathon. I wet my bed that night because I was too scared to get up and go to the bathroom.
Wax teeth dreams and candy laced visions of Halloween started to snap me out of my Invader paranoia. Soon, there was nothing but thoughts of trick or treat and a loaded giant grocery bag of goodies. The old widow around the corner would be giving out popcorn balls. The egg man would give out quarters and the nuns at the convent gave out little fruit pies.  Costumes were easy back then. I would be the Wolf man. I went to the variety store and I bought a plastic mask with a rubber band to hold it on. Then, I just took old clothes and put red food coloring all over them for blood. Cool, creepy and yeah I was going to score lots of candy.
The night was finally here. Halloween night. Dark and dry the winds blew softly as leaves and candy wrappers scuttled through the feet of kids in search of the treasures. Treasures behind suburban doorways. The air was singing with the sounds of doorbells and loud knocks and shouts of “Trick or Treat”. The cardinal rule of my parents, I had to stay within sight of my older sister and whatever she said was law. My older sister Linda was cool. She would let us run out of her sight as long as we met up with her at the corner to check in.
It was my best friend David and me running the streets for sugared loot. My plastic mask was wet on the inside from my hot young breath. The impervious plastic sent toxic chemical smells up my nose. We knocked, rang and yelled at every house in the area. It was time to check in at the corner.
As I ran back to the corner, I saw that orange moon rising against the darkness of the trees. My nightmare briefly flashed in my head. I squinted my eyes behind the two holes punched in my ninety-nine cent mask. There was Linda at the corner with her best friend Chris. They were boringly dressed as ghost in sheets. David and I sat on the corner and began to look over the riches in our paper bags. We sprawled out on the grass like a couple of pirates from the days of old.  I looked up across the street and there was the big old walnut tree creaking in the wind.
Then a glass breaking scream from Chris. My sister grabbed my hand and pulled me up. Someone’s bag of candy hit the street and chocolates and Jujubes scattered to the ends of the earth. I pulled my hand away and looked at my sister’s face. Horror! Her trembling hand pointed towards Mount Wilson. It looked like a giant shadow puppet against the moonlit sky. Something was rising from behind the mountain. Something with flashing lights that were spinning at the speed of light. It hovered and moved closer to our little valley. It was a flying saucer and it was coming for us.  I knew for sure it was the Invaders. My nightmare had been a prophecy and this was going to be the end of the world right here, right now.
My hand yanked and I ran to keep up with my sister. David was long gone, probably already abducted by the Invaders.  We were moving past that old nasty walnut tree. For once, I was not scared of it. There was something bigger to scare me. It was an alien ship with the soul sucking hands that could send a death ray to kill us all. Across our front lawn like the Flash. Crash. I burst through our front door like a human earthquake. My dad jumped from the easy chair. “What the hell”, was all he said.
I just kept saying, “They’re coming for us, they’re coming for us.” Bang through the house and under my bed. It was dark and I was covered. I was safe. Even from my safe spot, I could feel the house vibrating and wind swirl around. They are taking the house up into their ship. I could hear chopping noises and my dad shouting. Then two rough hands grabbed me and pulled me out from under my safe spot. It was my dad.
Oh no! They’ve already invaded his body. No dad, no please.
He carried me through the house quickly and out to the front lawn. The blare of lights pierced my eyes the chopping swirling sound was deafening.
“Look up Mike, look up.” My dad took my chin gently and pushed my head upward.
The flying saucer was right above us. Only it was not a flying saucer at all.
Now the sound became more familiar. It was the sound of a helicopter.
There were lights spinning around the helicopter. The lights were words.
My dad put his hand on my shoulder. “You see son, there’s nothing to be afraid of.”
I looked at the helicopter hovering above and read the words.
The words spinning around the helicopter read Eat at Joe’s.