and at OPEN MIC ENCORE I November.
November 7, 2003
A Quatrain of Sept. 2003
by Bill Albright
I saw my name in print
My thought of who I am soared
I made a promise
To not take myself seriously
The night is never
and day cannot claim
to be asleep
when they slayed sanity
in the middle of laughter
the night is never
for was it not in her womb
that the seeds of sorrow
before a crimsoned birth
in the glare of noon?
how then can night be
when the owl hooted
in her blind chambers
and tomorrow died in the morning?
the night is never
when it glistens with
to stifle forbidden thoughts
even while the sun stares!
the night is never
and day cannot claim
to be asleep.
Curtains drawn as
the hours start to run.
another day born,
As mourning cries,
the hours run,
driving towards the autumn
Earth at its worst.
When the Flowers are dead and gone,
and only the memory remains,
When the rich field of untamed grass is reduced to a barren wasteland,
and only cold, unmerciful ground is your support,
When the clouds have consumed the sun,
and its rays are a thing of the past,
When time is still, trapping you forever in the gloom and the sorrow
and all you have is the looming prospect of tomorrow,
When no one is around,
to offer the sympathy you crave,
When your mind screams with all of its harshness,' WHY?'
and all you can do is remain silent to its fury, submerged in self pity
When life has lost its meaning,
and the material world holds no promise,
When the truth has finally hit, that nothing stays the same
and everything is old, and damaged
This is the Earth, at its worst
THE POOR HOUSE MOUSE (A Matrix Poem)
DEDICATED TO UNICEF - BECAUSE: YOU MAKE A DIFFERENCE
BY: JOHN WILLIAM LANE
Yes or no, please change the story,
Offer your help, not your purgatory!
Unless we deem, to make contribution,
Mankind can't reach a real evolution!
Actions, reactions, all interdependent,
Kindness and love, real time well-spent!
Everyone, makes their own interpretation,
Also little children, dying of starvation!
Dreams of a white Christmas, they have not,
Instead some good food, this a real jackpot!
Frail little hands begging, this only appeal,
For love and sympathy, and maybe some oatmeal!
Echo this message worldwide, help the children,
Reclaim their hope of life, without a lions den!
Easy answers are seldom found, we moan and groan,
Now it's time to help, even a dog you give a bone!
Cherish these children, for they'll do you no harm,
Every donation you make, liken to a good luck charm!
The old broken down dog,
With the one who fed him,
bathed him, pet him, and played with him gone; he is now left to wander the
streets alone, with not even a doorknob to hoplessly gaze upon.
Eyes filled with sorrow; he
continues to walk through a bitter, unforgiving world vainly made for one
species. Unbathed and flea-bitten, the rare handouts of the selfish grow
Claws crack and bleeding,
paws torn and blistered, he cowers aside to let the self-indulgent pass, for
he knows all too well they would just assume kick him than do the same.
Spotting the trees, he ran,
For the soft plush grass, he ran,
For the cool refreshing water, he ran,
Across the thick black tar, he ran,
And for one last time he
embraced his masters voice saying the words he cherished most.
Cascading with love,
From the heavens above,
"Go for a ride...? Go for a ride...?"
AN ANT HILL
The symbol of a united nation
The creativity of a united people
The emblem of a united vision
The potency of a united strength
The power of a united acumen
The prowess of a united policy
The design from a united art
The instinct from a united vioce
If the world were an ant hill;
There would be no racism
There would be no war
The world would have been a true haven
A VIEW FROM THE INSIDE
harold john l. fiesta
Seated beside the window on this rainy Sabbath afternoon,
the light of day peers from every one's face
where smiles readily spread
like a peacock's proud display of its tail.
>From my vantage point, I have a wider stretch of view
compared to the outsider's who looks in from the gate.
I look out the window and I realize, I am at the best position
of seeing things clearly as they really are:
I am the song of the rain that nobody understands,
the pink rose among white roses lining the pavement
and someone who knows, the horizontal line where heaven
is seen kissing the earth shatters to an illusion;
my arms are still short to reach the sky.
The notes of the church hymns materialize
and become tangible to every one's touch,
I dare not touch them ---
I am that outsider who looks in from the gate,
wondering what is hidden behind the window.
THE TRUTH ABOUT WORDS
BY: Rebecca Brown
'Sticks and stones
may break my bones
but words will never hurt me'
Is that not the most ridiculous
propaganda you have ever heard?
Because everyone knows that words
After all, isn't that the point?
I'd like to know who wrote that rhyme
And if he's still alive
Give him a big bop on the the head
For having said,
'Sticks and stones
may break my bones
Will never hurt me.'
Because he lied.
Words DO hurt.
And that, my friend, is the truth about words.
even in my old
there is hunger
"I Cling Too"
even in my old
there is hunger
because i built too
this fatal death
an infant clutched
that was me
or hangs like grapes
resurrection still a mouth agape
her breasts to fill
the empty space
so much to mourn
if not her touch
of being born
who is sure
but the lure
it dripped of
soft as silk
i am certain.
originally composed 10.05.99
© 2001 d. durand worthey
Some days life just moves too slow
When you’re the first to come and the last to go
Days like this I sit and think,
find some time to grow
Assuming I can find the time
to wander from the show
You’re so far that my life’s a mess
But my fortune said I’d weather a test
And when the storm finally blows and
The weight’s finally shouldered
I know you’ll still be waiting when
The show is finally over
Jet Black Hair
Marc A. Cid
As I walk along in this morning fair,
A girl crossed my path up an ivory stair.
I had her right away in my crosshairs.
Her face as bright as the sun;
Her lips just scream for fun;
Her eyes like two stars the God's has lost,
But what struck my fancy the most,
Was in my opinion worthy of the best boast;
Her hair long and dark as the night,
Cascading down her shoulders like the day
Rolling into the twilight;
Like a river flowing deep beneath,
Into the bowels of my heart to keep.
one moment i feel like flying, the other - i don't know..
there is greenery on the far side of the mountain...
will i be able to make it?
will i even want to make it?
one moment i feel strong like a bull...
my knees grow weak...
i am fatigued.. weary with the burden.. too tired to walk..
but the mountains beckon..
i am getting coaxed.. do i let go..
can i attach any meaning to what i see?
is there any meaning to what i see?
one moment i feel like flying.. as if there is no time left.. i am in a
the other - i don't know...
to a song i hear... not caring what is said...
it is all a constant and meaningless buzz on my ears...
tired, insensitive, insipid, lifeless that i am..
do i want a life?
is there any end to the mountains? is there any end to the greenery? when does
the river stop? is the water very cold? do i care at all? am i numb? am i dead
already? the perpetual motion that life is...
the mountain stands tall besides the lapping waves of the deep ocean..
there i stand watching the waves hitting against the rocks...
and something gets over me...
i jump into the water knowing not what awaits me...
it could be a rock... it could be a poisonous serpent... do i care?
my lifeless body hits the cold water... and i keep drowning... knowing not
where the bottom of the ocean lies...and i keep drowning...
there is dew on the green grass...
and i lie on the cold bed with my mind blank..
floating in the midst of the cloud... high up in the blue sky...
unaware that i might fall... unaware of the world beneath...
i feel weightless... devoid of any sap... with my insides empty... insensitive
to pain or pleasure.. uncaring of fame or ignominy..
to pleasures i am unattached.. pain i am unknown to...
i am travelling in a car... watching the landscape pass me... then i go into
the water... watch the fishes pass by the window... so colourful they are...
oblivious to the world outside... am i dreaming? am i hallucinating? is
everything i am seeing for real? why do i feel vacant in the head? my limbs go
weak.. my heart stops beating... my veins don't carry any blood any more..
everybody is laughing at me... can they see what i am going through? are they
for real? or are they just an imagination? am i awake? are they dead?
i feel sleepy and tired... wishing rest will fill my body with vigor... and i
will be able to walk the mountains.. swim in the rivers.. listen to the
chirping birds sitting under the shade.. and then i go to sleep again...i am
deaf, dumb, blind, mad... am i still alive? do i know if i am alive?
sitting under the tree i see... through the green leaves... the green mountain
peaks... the white cloud swimming in the ocean of the blue sky.. am i
dreaming? i feel weightless... i am swimming with the cloud... the breeze
touches my skin... moves through my hair... all this makes me sleepy
again...and i start falling... i keep falling... till i touch the water...
where i float...
hanging in mid-air... that's what i am... knowing not what i am.. where am i
destined to.. incoherrent thoughts that i have... unrelated events that i realize..
Just so simple
It is simple
clear as day
the information is crystal
so there shouldn't be questions
a hand pops up
the instructor glares
"what" he replied
What is life without questions
How will we know what to do
it wouldn't be clear
just a crystal clear mess
do you understand
because everybody does
if you don't
ask me that question
Questions are important
we would not have answers.
hiddenergyouthiddenergyouthiddenergyouth hidden energy youth
the initials have a word behind them
also a girl
her name is Marina Sahara Postigo
always had a smile on almost never sad
but what lies behind the mask of fakeness
can be dreadfully the hate, the hurt
THE PAIN OF LIVING?
if we would have known
if she didn't put on that mask
like we all do to hide what we feel
we could have helped her
convinced her not to. pleaded with her
anything to make her stop feeling what she was
but if we did would it be ok?
or would she have done it anyway despite of what we say
she just might be here if it wasn't for the dumb ass masks
that hide what we feel
take off the masks show your self we just might help!
The New York Address
Written by Charles L. Brown
September 30, 2001
Say to them that are of a fearful heart, Be strong, Fear not: Behold your God
will come with vengeance, even God with a recompense; He will come and save you.
Eleven score and five years ago, our forefathers brought forth, a new nation.
Conceived and dedicated, to the proposition that all men are created equal.
America grew and prospered and soon took its place in world leadership.
Feeding starving children in countries around the globe, America’s
humanitarian acts are second to none. We embraced people of all races and
creeds and soon became a smelting pot like no other country on Earth. We
fought side by side with our allies in foreign lands against causes we
believed in and eventually became the police force of the entire world. Those
conflicts were never fought on American soil! This all changed on September
11, 2001 as a group of murderers hijacked American planes and caused massive
destruction in New York and Washington D.C.
The loss of human life was so great that the search and rescue mission will
take months to complete. Wounded but not defeated, all America grieved! But
sifting through the ashes of what once was the World trade center the blood of
millions of long dead Americans who had given their lives to protect the
sovereignty of this nation cried out! First, in a whisper, to the rescue
workers, searching for bodies of our dead. Then in a low mournful murmuring
sound heard by the people looking on. And finally, a deafting roar that would
soothe the hurting hearts and become the battle cry that would unite a nation
and ring out, in one voice, to our fighting forces around the world:
I pledge allegiance to the flag, of the United States of America. And to the
republic for which it stands, one nation under God, Indivisible with Liberty
and Justice for all.
Why do i live in fear? fearing that the voices i hear are true. that
everything is a lie. that there is nothing to live for. there is no meaning to
life or what i think is true really isn't. i live in doubt that i won't be successful. I
know i'm not good in art, music, sports, but i know one thing; life is not all
what's it all cracked up to be. the real world what you think it is. but we
think oh we will be rich but no u or i will not be rich get real. now u know
why i live in fear. you know the saying there is nothing to fear but fear
itself well that's wrong. there is something to fear it is yourself. I so know
you know why i live in fear.
by Karen Visoky
And yet not...
In memory held
Replaced by the next...
A journey traveled
To the end
But not yet...
A Game Of Chess
By Denniston Stewart
With shackles on my feet
and tortures to my mind
My self worth and value
you tried me to deny
to you,I was a pawn in your game
fit only for your pleasure or displeasure
whatever suited thee
and so using every strategy
my freedom tried to deny me
But now that my eyes are open!
and hidden mysteries made known!
I will take my rightful place upon my own throne
Now as I delve into the knowledge
that you have now made known,
I have a culture to be proud of
never mentioned in your schools,
I read about black pioneers,inventers,
nurses, leaders, kings and queens
I learnt about Africa from where I originally came
so I give you back your name, my own to reclaim
And in this game you play with people's lives.
Checkmate! The Game Is Over....copyright..
On top of the world miles up high,
I feel the breeze of the peaceful sky .
The fluffy clouds seem almost unreal,
the peaks of heaven i can almost feel.
Deep in my heart i feel so small,
compared to the world that created us all.
The beautiful waters in the beautiful sea,
more beauty than my eyes could ever see.
If my eyes were to be closed i fear it be gone,
so forever i live on to see every beautiful dawn.
The landlord stopped me on the steps...
You'll have to leave he said. I wondered why
but said nothing.
You have an Elephant in your living room! don't deny it.
What kind of Jackass are you to have an Elephant in your living room???
That's a direct violation of Clause number twelve in the
Go, go he said with venom in his voice..
I returned to my apartment. Fortunately,
my little Banditto Raccoon was safe and waving to me!!!
I held all the clues
in the palm of my hand
Set them ablaze
for the winds to fan
She was a mystery
best left unsolved
I am a fire
WINTER POSTCARD SCENE
A female bird perches, watching..........a white Y
over the crater, papier-mache moon. Turning pelvis.
Snow-covered tree. We want grey matter dilating a
circular black tissue flung out like a cape. Histology
of nerve fibers irritated by a solitary flower, cryptic orange.
A cracker thrown out back for a squirrel that hops
like a computer cursor. Ritz formality of a pauper.
Song infiltrated, a ceremony. Olive
sine waves of always flocks. Sporadic mind.
FREEDOM VETERANS (a matrix poem)
This poem is dedicated to all American Veterans.
By: John W. Lane
Fathers and sons, went to war with the Tyrant,
Risking their lives, to open freedom's Hydrant!
Even in the face of death, courage did Amplify,
Everyone did have a part, the enemy to Nullify!
Damm were the days and nights, full of Killing,
Often no chance for sleep, this due to Shelling!
Men of boys, war does make, writes one Tabloid,
If they returned alive, the family was Overjoyed!
Scenes that would choke you, had to be Viewed,
Nightmares from Hell, no boy or man to Exclude!
Overseas they went, a fight on unknown Terrain,
Women and children left behind, how to Explain!
Offering lives and limbs, the peace to Restore,
Understanding the big risks, many were Antiwar!
Real true heroes did make a great free Nation,
So remember to thank veterans, this my Summation!
- - -
The extra message - CAPITAL LETTERS DOWNWARD:
FREEDOM IS NOW OURS & THANKS TO
Ink jostles space
Retinue the relic
Ecstatic magi quivers
Symbols carry the pulse
Of a rune runs
Speaks the quaver
Peaks image the phoenix
Each fires the
Each of the phoenix
Carrying the flame
High on the labyrinth
THE FALLEN KING
Daniel James Martinusen
His hair is gnarled with twigs and leaves
It snags the ground around his knees
His eyes a wild and haunting gaze
While with the cattle he does graze
With claws for nails and dirt for clothes
An unseemly sight this man does pose
I've heard it said he was a king
He wore the finest robes and ring
His riches far exceeded all
But in his pride this man did fall
Look up O man in humble state!
Remember he who made you great!
Perhaps in mercy you'll be freed
To humbly rule and justly lead
the lone shark..
a popsicle stick, the glass stuck in my throat.
a stolen matchstick bleeds,aware of its dissposal , still
i choke,the prism captain,
mortar colored casing,broken lighter sticks the dashboard,
light upon the distant waters , switchstance eyes
a razors fist dances with the seal of acrylic remnats on
reflection of the trees face, stalking windows
withered toll paid deep beneath the dreams of
each breath taken,,,leaf of progression,
processed cranium dissolves the hermit crab,
paper shelter for the phonograph,missconseption of the carpetbagger
enhancing the seamless vapors mind is
distrought for dreams of the
shells ingested,jagged outline fallen appendage,,
this chosen flight has corrupted the kool-aid
grim depiction of the
face leaves the dromedary singing tones
of pungent irridesence in the fading
the lonely vessel remains a basking skark no tool for
representation of prismatic visions inlaid within my shoelaces
spiral focus in a cylindrical fortress topographs the
of each this day,,,,,,,,mental laceration
had a staring contest with the sun,
it seemed like things go on and on.
Then all of a sudden things go black,
I didn't even blink... Imagine that!
By Meredith Pollack
Its only October
But the people speaking on the radio
Say that it might snow
Since when was it ever winter time?
Or even was it fall?
How did I let the summer melt away
It slipped right through my hands
I took my time for granted
I took all of my time for granted.
But now that its gone…
I don’t know how it goes.
I have to learn how to live again.
I’m just adapting.
To life with stress
And where everything just seems to be
A little bit less.
To a life without four seasons.
And a life without
The glow of everything else,
That seems to be bouncing off everything .
Alison Marie Findler
I feed myself from your full plate.
I ingest some of your hate.
I can hardly wait to shed the pounds.
This is how my situation sounds.
It sounds like sleeping at night.
It sounds like eating.
It sounds like recovery.
And all of the sober people I've been meeting.
But the voice in my head that screams, "You should choose!"
That's the one that wants me to lose.
Now I'm full, pulled in two directions.
I'll eat some more, burnt my connections.
But let me hear, one more time, that I'm fat...
I know where the junk food's at.
There is more at OPEN MIC ENCORE I November
and at OPEN MIC ENCORE I November.
Poems copyright ©
designated authors 2003.
Page Copyright © AHApoetry.com 2003.
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