Does it Matter
by Johanna Albee
Does it matter how eloquently words are joined
More than the feelings they stir?
Does it matter if the words being used are simple or sophisticated;
If your heart is touched and your mind beautifully intoxicated?
So much emphasis is placed on the complex and new;
That buried underneath the elaborate lies the simple and true.
Sad is the moment when poetry becomes the competition
of rarely used adjectives in the english language.
When heartfelt writings are considered mundane.
When a poet is a master of words
Rather than a speaker for the soul.
I believe that within every heart there lies a poet.
Within every soul lies a melody.
Hear the melody in simplicity--
Let the heart see poetry in the unskilled hand.
Copyright 2005 Johanna Albee(enigmas2@sbcglobal.net).
Reproduction is prohibited without express permission of the author.
Website: www.femmetech.net
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Lambs are given no more
by Ernest Dempsey
We hear of Abraham a holy man
A hint he got for sacrifice
Alas! Among a myriad of choices
He took little Isaac to slaughter
The poor kid was saved we hear
A lamb was given instead
The myth however took its roots
In countless homes it turned up true
For familyˇ¦s sake the children suffered
And suffer still we see
Hope but now we see none
For lambs are given no more instead
The horrors of the myth grew stronger still
As State became the patriarch
Millions were slaughtered at the altar of war
And are slaughtered still we see
Hope but now we see none
For lambs are given no more instead
Copyright 2005 by Ernest Dempsey ( dempsey87@yahoo.com).
Reproduction is prohibited without express permission of the author.
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Stuff That Haunts You
Richard Denner
Stuff that haunts you--
things you said and shouldn't have,
things you said you could have said better,
things you didn't say.
Misery comes from every direction, and what am I going to do about it?
I can't always be watching TV.
I can't expect the Kali Yuga Age to be easy.
Did I think samsara would be exhausted when John Kerry was elected?
I feel like a blind man who doesn't know where he is.
And now, a theocracy is in ascendancy supported by the oligarchs.
A protestant reformation of a secular humanistic government
with power flowing into church pulpits, along every roadside, in every suburb.
The Halloween boogie man himself, Osama Bin Laden, appeared on TV,
looking dapper, and addressed the American public, saying our security
was in OUR hands, not the hands of the two candidates,
and I know it sounds like aiding a terrorist even to listen to him,
let alone consider what he has to say,
and heaven help me, if I should want to do as he suggests.
This would be like negotiating with a terrorist.
Who was it decided it was a bad policy to negotiate with terrorists?
What kind of strategy is that? Sure, I know, no concessions.
That by caving into terrorists' demands, we fall prey to their tactics.
But have we seen any letup of terrorism because we don't negotiate?
How is this calculated?
Osama's two demands:(1) solve the Palestinian/Israeli conflict &What's there to negotiate?
(2) get out of the Near East.
Copyright 2005 Richard Denner (rychard@sonic.net).
Reproduction is prohibited without express permission of the author.
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Dollars And Sense
by Jack Hriniak
Ethics the principles of honor and morality.
Words of liberty
speak not to our truth
but towards their comfort.
Open the eyes and see
that
another star on our flag is gone.
This
country vanished long ago
when
dreams were lost in always,
and
when
the terrible power of one
came alive
rising from the cold whispers
of
forgotten dreams.
Small wonder we live inside the walls of blind houses.
Only
when
the light spilled out of dark cages
did
we see
the ashes
inside the eyes of those we elected.
The
hands
know how it will be;
for you, for me
used
to
wash
faces with the gift of eternal youth.
Still
I will remain
to win,
to lose,
in the flames of fate.
Greed will not save the morality of God.
America --
out of faith,
out of days,
out of dreams
We are night
at
the end of truth.
Copyright 2004 by Jack Hriniak (Jhlord68@aol.com).
Reproduction is prohibited without express permission of the author.
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After Five
by Raud A. Kennedy
In my blue suit and yellow power tie,
I'm the catch of the office.
Yet I mark my territory in bars
By pissing on the toilet seat.
I smoke only when I drink,
And only butts I've bummed.
The scent of the cologne
From the little bottle on my dresser
Fights with the underarm Speed Stick.
I live life out of a can,
Dinty Moore in the microwave,
Diet Coke on the coffee table.
Television on, remote in my hand,
A fat belly around my life's corner.
Copyright 2005 by Raud A. Kennedy (raudkennedy@new-england-dog.com)
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In Pursuit of Memories
by Prasenjit Maiti
You rushed down the frozen stairs of yester-years while I tried to hold you back in vain, taking stock of my mineral water bottles and deciding to go down to the northern springs for fresh tear wells of sorrows. You had gone round the block to the store for provisions, condiments and pickles, fish and pizza, insanity and defeats. I just cannot take it anymore, said I, while you sedately polished your glasses against my designer stubble and blue Indian skies.
Copyright 2005 by Prasenjit Maiti (pmaiti@vsnl.com).
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Letter to the Editor: Cherie Staples (skyearth1@aol.com).