Imagine that you are sitting at a table in a coffeehouse in the big city. You had come to hear the featured poet read the latest poems and they were good! so right-on and inspiring. The latte cup is empty and the bagel is only crumbs. The announcer with the dumb jokes has just said the mic is now open for poems from the audience. And there you are, weaving between chairs to the front of the room with a paper crackling in your hand. There you are reading your poem and all those people are listening to you. Only later, with the applause still ringing in your ears, when your heart stops pounding even louder can you read over the rest of the poems of the evening, here on your computer. Enjoy!

October, 2007


Mindful, Mindless, October Date
Michael Lee Johnson

Mindful of my lover
running late, as common
as tying your shoestrings;
I'm battered as an armadillos shell;
I put my bands around my emotional body
armor native to myself and walk like a stud in darkness.
Everything in October has a shade of orange you know-- a hint of witch and goblin.
In the leaves between my naked feet
and toes, as I pace my walk in the parking lot, I count them-- I count them color chart fragments and bites:
oranges, reds, still mostly greens.
Barefooted the time of the tear, the year-fragmented.

I am male battered in a relationship
tested without my testosterone
no sexual rectification or recharging
of my batteries needed.

I lie limp.
Native to myself--
mindless of my lover running late.

Then she arrives.



By Ruth Walters


I’m black and I’m scary I’m fast and I’m hairy,

my legs are so skinny, my body is fat.

Most women hate me, their men folk all chase me

and then underfoot they make me go crack!


If I take a husband I’ll have lots of babies

and then when he dies I’ll eat him all up!

Well I’m not sentimental my head rules my heart

and I’d rather be single than hungry by far!


I’m a spider lets face it and though I could lace it

with fine woven webs from here to Hong Kong.

I’m a whore pure and simple I haven’t a dimple

and just like a pimple you’d all like me gone!


They say….
Jorge Molina.

They said I shouldn’t care but I love you and you care.
They said I shouldn’t love but you came along and is killing me now.
They said I shouldn’t kill but if someone hurts me I won’t be able to stop myself.
They said I shouldn’t stop from doing things but I care so much that I’ll rather do nothing.
They said I shouldn’t waste time but taking a minute off feels so good because I appreciate what’s around me.
They said I shouldn’t like everything around me but you, you make everything beautiful.
They said I shouldn’t pay attention but I want to thank God every night for everything, the rest of my life.
They said I shouldn’t but I will if it feels right… and so they say.


A Thought, a poem and a story
By Barbara Alyea 10-07

 On any one night,,, of the week.
On any night,,,dark and bleak.

 IF -  you dare,,,to be seen,
You’d  best beware of,,,Holloween.

 You’d better try,,,to get home soon.
When the wind  seems to howl,,,a strange tune.

 Calling out every ghost,..and goon.
As they blow clouds,,,past the moon.

Making you feel,,,like your skin is bare.
Cold uneasiness,,,hangs in the air.

 You’ll  see it,,,in the shadows there.
And, you’ll  feel it,,,with every step and stare.

 So,,, if you are not,,, home by night.
And, you think,,, you have withstood the fright.

 And, if you never again,,,see light.
We will just guess,,,what was your plight !!!


                                            by Patricia Brooks
                        I aim my rifle
                        at my enemy, then stop.
                        I have seen his soul.
                        Summoned to war, I
                        say, I cannot go while I
                        am singing of peace.
                        The old battlefield
                        rests until Spring, when wildflowers
                        will cover its scars.


"Bumblebee Land"
Anne Martin
Let's take a look in this book called, "Bumblebee Land".
Please come sit down beside me to look at bees firsthand.
There are not even two bees that look alike
And there isn't one bee named Mike.
A bee is simply called a bee and that's the way it's going to be.
Please don't try to tag a bee, 'cause it won't work no surrey!
Enjoy the bees for what they do
And for more or less which is quite true.
They pollinate through and through
And quite thoroughly I think, don't you.
Let's turn the page and look at this colorful bee.
Feel how fuzzy this little bee can be
Does he feel as fuzzy to you as he does to me?
Bees can be magical litle creatures in the Land of Bees
And the Land of Bees is as big as your imagination will let it be.



That lucky day..When you gave me a smile..
It took my breath away..As far as a mile..

Those words of yours..Which melted me hun..
As though i was just ice..And you were the sun..

With all your love..And all your care..
I just don't know..When days passed by..

When i almost thought..You were really mine..
You shared your life..With another woman..

I thought and thought..What do i do??..
It was no more 'us'..Just 'me' and 'you'..

I was ready to accept..That you will never be mine..
but you ruined it all..When you smiled at me again...


by Marla DiGiacomo

waiting I am

for your embrace

wallow I do

in a vacant place

deafened by

the roar of 

your grace

i am shining

in the light

of your face

frozen in the promise

that your kiss

will find me

and i

my bliss


Why Did You Go?
Jenay Sampson
You were there in the beginning
and we were so close,
always fun and comforting
so daddy, why did you go?
I used to be a daddy's girl
until you walked out my world.
I thought, "What did I do so bad
that made you no longer wanna be my dad?"
I know sometimes things were rough for you,
but that was no reason to say you were through.
Even though we saw you once in a while,
I guess your friends deserved you more than your child.
But then you got caught up in the streets
and got locked up for a year,
you needed clothes and shoes for your feet,
so you start calling and pretending to care.
You wrote us letters saying how you changed,
and we believed your every word.
But when you were freed, all remained the same,
and from you, nothing was heard.
Even if it is Mom you dread,
you still could've called to see if I was alive or dead.
It wasn't even about the dough,
so daddy, why did you go?
I can’t say why you did what you did,
maybe you had your plans set,
but you’ve missed the lives of your first 2 kids,
and this I’m sure you will someday regret.
So as far as our needs-don’t bother,
because we have a parent that has been the mother and the father.
As practically an adult, I wrote this of my own will,
no one influenced me.
All we’ve been through with you, I remember still,
and how I felt...I wanted you to see.
I have no hate or resentment towards you,
cuz you are the only father I know,
but I hope your new family gets the best from you,
                                    so one day they won’t also say, "why did you go?"


by Peter Conet

Use your Body to Amuse Your Mind 
Thoughts leave behind words to search in aether
...body waiting to get struck by lottery and lightning
Imagine Creating Combers frightening fantastic filled with Jonas and whales
While we're here let me share...
A personality is wind around the trunk and branches
pushing me over when of me its not scared
In autumn the leaf leaves in dramatic beauty
or clings brown and alone afraid to let go
and makes a scene come spring green
certainly these certainties are like steelcuffs calling your bluffs
Theres a good ghost glow will follow
those unafraid of pain and alien alightments
Theres a Good Ghost Glow will surround
those inverted temples and internal crowns
  and those who leave lives to live untouched by your apocalyptic brush 
but we all seem to reach the same conclusions.
WE are all red and gray furious decay
afraid to fail
Bashful to begin a new BIG BANG!

getting gods attention
beat this body around
point to pain
its how I chose to play this game
im awake, im Im...       im not sure
True love is a dominate arrogant boring rock.
Romance is spectral vignettes
fucking through monotony fluctuating
creating and crashing creating and
crashing Waves rolling into themselves
riding a pony across an ocean crying in mud
because the pony drowned as you fought to free it
from its frightful death 
and as you lay in muddy misery
another body comes and saves you from your pain by
Fucking you in the rain and spitting water on your lips
when the clouds strip a
sunbeam lights up your face and you begin again
with a new watch

in a new place.
Birds chirp in pain.
The universe is murderous.
Comfort and love are imagining and not ordinary
Eat warmth affection!
Sharks are the moons reflection
Fishermen the suns abused children
Rope burn cancer blots and guts about the bow
8 Seagulls circling drooling in exhaust smoke from the boat
And the water lifted
And the sky disappeared
And the land sank
And the center cracked
And IT was dispersed throughout space
And the universe was alone without wonder.


Teodora Gheorghe

                     Autumn rain
                                and the last summer grins cremated in a jug
                                and two of my dolls playing chess
                                in the larder...

                               Autumn rain
                               and a butterfly clinging to my ear
                               and a naked little girl playing
                               in the sand...

                               Autumn rain
                               and a gust of wind in my left temple
                               and a mild breeze in my right pocket
                               like a hum...

                               Autumn rain
                               and all the cats and dogs from all the rains
                               and all the shoes that never find their way
                               back home...

                               Autumn grief
                               and an acid shower pouring in my guts
                               and crying leaves of autumn
                               on the porch...


Driving Down The 405
David B. Hawkins

Driving down the 405
feeling great, feeling alive
changing lanes moving fast
lights reflecting off the glass.
cars to the left, trucks to the right
cars up ahead no opening in sight
downshift, tached up, slowing down
cranked the wheel found an end around
speeding down lane number one
merging cars are so much fun
jumped across to lane number three
someone blew their horn at me
clear road ahead back up to speed
shifting to overdrive in my metal steed
cruising now, un-impeded
I found the freedom that I needed
up ahead another pack
I swing to position, another attack...
Oh how I love driving the 405
feeling great, feeling alive…


Mary Chapman

 This morning I noticed

While watching the rain

My dieffenbachia was dying.

It made me sad.

I thought to myself

had I been ignoring her?

Her green and white leaves

were dusty and yellow,

Not a good sign.

Nor had I talked with her,

Letting her know she was

so beautiful.

Ironically, she was dry and

had not been watered

in quite some time.

Yet, all the while, it was pouring outside.

I walked over to her,

to apologize I guess.

I noticed the stem,


My poor dieffenbachia was hurt,

So was I.


Written by Andrea

Seeing you would make me non-stop fumble.

Just walking towards you, my feet would stumble

I loved your smile, this is when I felt your love

You were something like angel sent from above

I held your hand in moments of tragic fear

My heart feeling warmer, I'd wipe away your tears

I gave you space, I let you play your games

I never mocked you and you never felt ashamed

I wonder if you knew just how much I loved you

Ridiculously too much, just like you did too.

Remember how I told you my heart was now broken

I took a piece and gave it to you, this was my token

Depressed, anxious, sad, alone, this is how I felt

I looked to you with my solemn request for help

Of all the sweet times of which are now lost

There is now only one thing left for me to boast

You were not there when I needed you the most.


by KingOfFailure

I still have the memories of those time
When you were there beside me all the time I still have those dreams in my eyes And there is no way I can get them out of my mind

I loved you more than anything I had
But I lied that day, and made a sacrifies It was so hard for me to lie But at that time I had no other choice I wish I could go back and do it all again But how can I do, without you I am so lame

I know its too late now for me to clarify And no action of mine can be justified Forgive me please, to come out of this guilt Forgive me my love, so that I can die now in peace.


meop ding
T. Harrison
when a bell rings,
does one hear the toll?
strike the brass or bronze
succumb to the doppler.
stroke the still iron
come to dinner.


Any Sign of Silence is Illusion

Twigs snap as cradle backed ants meet fast deaths
one foot, two foot, hunter orange bleeds its scent
squirrels chirp, breath lingers, joints crack,
any sign of silence is illusion

In the packed house of a tired brain electrons never sleep

as the woman from down under
sells bad poems to cheap minds
sailing souls across blue waters
at no charge....they'll never know.

they sigh, and claim their silence
as the echoes of their ignorance
head towards a nerf ball heaven
on a cloud of unabashed illusion


silence is a voice the poet loathes
and any sign of silence is illusion,
born of things they believe
they learned so long ago


by Ruth Walters


Inside Angie’s wardrobe is a place of wonderment

It’s a place where she goes when life is too tough

and she’s feeling discontent.

As she opens its doors and walks inside

a magical world appears.

Her dreads drift away with the light of the day

as she loses herself in it’s spheres.

In her wardrobe there is a garden

with willow trees, flowers and streams

A place to escape all her problems

and live out her wildest dreams.

Bad things just don’t happen

 inside the wardrobe there!

Angie wouldn’t let them,

she’d make them disappear.

Only her friends are allowed inside

and she feeds them on honey and wine.

She only comes out when the dinner gong chimes

for she cannot tell the time.


The Station.
Thomas Mckeown

He was only consistent in his variation, And as he stood there in the station he knew not where he wanted to go.

But now confronted with decisions, overcome with pessimism, And full of self-derision, yet believed a man of vision, a man of forsight with no bounds, Suppressing inner-demons he's a traitor to his reason, much nearer lost than found, Yes he tries to fight his thinking, attempts to start resisting, But there will be no escaping, from his troubles unrelenting.

Unremarkable, unassuming, but they were unaware, Of what lay beneath his tattered jacket and sullen, vacant stare.


Racheal Buchanan

My fear of feeling pain has made me cold I want to fall in love again before I grow old I'm so scared of the unknown I wonder if he'll ever know The pain he caused was so deep the nights I slept with no sleep the tears I cried all alone The nights I spent with no one home I gave him a treasure a piece of me a piece he did not deserve A piece I should have kept on reserve This man that I once loved is now someone I loath Are bed is cold and our children do not see There Mommy is hurt and it's because of there Daddy This silence I will keep threw there younger years For them I sacrifice my happiness for there's. . .


Brotherly Glove
by Marina Vitagliano

Closing my eyes
Thinking it’s not you
The one she’s caressing
Brotherly glove
Code of past love
Still creeping in veins
Feeling the touch
Of her fingers
On your shivering skin
And on my bleeding flesh.


Phil Perrone

I am lost.
This is known to Him, the lowest of the low.
Once gentle air now crushes each breath in distant soulless night-ache, then I became stripped of the ground.
I hopelessly cry out that he overlook my eternally shackled hands.
Yet He groans with diseased forgotten eyes, closed wide; They were thirst driven vultures in the blackened fire.
I lifelessly reached above the Hateful Mourner to numb the lost abyss of self-hatred, yet shackles tormented the Light; Rejecting my hallowed eyes, now filling with the blood of Millions...
...falling into the Dead Sea.
With vengeance the Stranded One claws at my Soul, lashing frantically at His own shriveled flesh, screaming the Psalm of Agony, frenzied as a Tameless Rebel.
Becoming one obscene wreckage, we desperately offer our hand to the starless night...

And then I turned my head, looking back for one last time...
There stood the One who Lives; he smiled, and i began to cry.


I'm Ugly
By Natalie Mallory 

You wake up every morning to the
same dreadful feeling.
I’m ugly!
I’m ugly!
People say your just special
People say you’ll grow up.

 But they don’t know how it feels to
Dread every day when you
Face your friends.
I’m ugly! 
I’m ugly!



          our days, like ageing photographs,drained of colour,fade
          shading memories where sunlight once played
          our companion,joy,a boy we thought would never age
          uncaged our souls and led the dance
          chances were spent on so vast a stage of light and love 
          while above,dreams flew,waiting to be caught 
          no thought for reality,carrying on the act 
          denying the fact that the spectre of time was unimpressed 
          we could only guess at the twist he would bring about 
          to flout our assumptions of a well applauded end 
          no friend was he for you or me 
          we were not aware ofb the descending curtain  
          so certain of a longer run,brighter sun in which we could stand 
          while many hands applauded with each encore  
          no more time,the curtain is down between us now and forever  
          never a line shall pass to each
          my reach cannot go beyond the veil 
          so ends the tale,our unpredictable story 
          lost the earthly glory,we did seek    


Skipping Stones
PM 07

Is time unknown to the soul?
Dues unknown?
Like Cherubes we run for our lives
Skipping over stones
And a reality often litlle faced.
Skipping the stones upon a clear water
Each jumps a leap of faith?
And how many stones will I throw today.
And did I caste them well?
Throwing my stoens in life
And some hostility about me.
Sixth skips I made
Six memories I made.
Six tears on my eyes.
What did I see
A simple joy as I played
with my life
And some with a yoke
to place upon me.
And I let them
how stupid of me.
Did you smell the fresh air
Salites refelcting perfect light
Blinded by sun on the marshes of life.
seduced to have held the image
so perfect upon some death.


J. David Gannon Sr

As I sit and wait for change,
I know that I have to refrain.
Seven times seventy and still I count.
A different horse I must mount.
How long must I live in this drought?
Rumors are swirling all about.
Absolutely we all say,
As we wait on that glorious day.
Spirits come and then they go,
trying to fill that ultimate role.
The Absolute Ruler is God’s Son...
Jesus Christ the begotten One.


By Jameel Heath

Eyes been bleeding now since birth,
bleeding more and more with every visit here to Earth, stone façade, never showing pain, kneeling in the wilderness, drenched in end-time rain, praying to the gods who haunt my dreams, losing sight of the line which borders all things sane, neverending life is the cause of all my strife, sweet Maria be my wife, sweet Maria be my wife, here in this hell, here in this cell, here where the difference between light and darkness is hard to tell, here where the truth is so hard to sell, here in this hell into which we fell, the eons upon my soul have been a story too gory to tell, oh well, and on we go, marchin down this road illuminated by flame, searchin a thousand haystacks for one name, like a moth drawn to the flame, to the hole at the center of this spiral, the One that calls my name.


 “Our African American Son's”
Peri Lynn Thomas

The Doctor said "it's a boy", we felt nothing but joy.

As we met eye to eye, you gave us a beautiful smile.

In first grade your teacher said "He is a little hyper".

In second grade your teacher said "I see signs of a behavioral problem".

In third grade your teacher said "He has a behavioral problem".

In fourth grade your teacher said "He has a learning problem".

In fifth grade your teacher said "He is out of control".

In sixth grade your teacher said "There is not hope".

These labels followed you thru high school as you struggled to graduate.

With our hands tied behind our backs we watch as they verbally, mentally and

physically abuse you; damaging your self esteem.

Fear appears as they see you coming, unaware that from their unjust treatment

                                                                           they created you into this angry and hostile person.

Now they ask “What is wrong with you”?

We see the hope, pain and frustration in your face as you struggle to succeed,

                              only to be held back over and over again by the system.

They set you up to fail, and then tear you down for failing.

You walk in disappointment with your head down.

                                              You ask “Where is my dad to teach me how to survive these struggles?”

This same question your dad asked his dad and today we have no answers.

You just want to be a normal teenager having fun hanging out with your friends

but the system won’t allow it.

You have been arrested and convicted

for an offense that others are given a slap on the hand for.

Each time you leave the house we pray that you will not be the next

“oh it was just a mistake” victim.

A Son carries on his fathers name, we pray every day you make it that far.

Other parents dream that their son becomes president, a doctor or a lawyer.

 Our daily dreams are that you survive the system; free, alive and well.

We have come a long way but the struggles are still there.

Today you ask “Why the struggles”? We have no answers.

Again, tomorrow we hope to say “that was yesterday; today is a brand new day”.

As we come together praying asking GOD for changes

we have to hold our heads up high and know that GOD is at work

and as we stand together change will come.



  The world

The world was so beautiful
God was so createfull
He created it, for the people;
but we've done nothing at all

This wonderful place are belong to someoneelse
People aren't know how to treat it, as a precious gift
You and I had the same previlege in the first place;
but someone are ignorance of threatening it

I've saw the gentle things he created
I liked everything of it,
All are purely masterpiece
Which are elegant and priceless

Someday he will get back the things he given to us
How we can tell him we vanished into ashed
I'm afraid someday this will be gone
And he will tell us "we are the abuser one".



Poems Copyright © designated authors 2007.
Page Copyright © 2007.

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