Asian Rain

by Jimmy D Fuller

Asian rain steadily drips
from a broken window pane
in synchronized beats.
From muddy puddle a
stray animal sips. Whores
and nuns stalk the slippery
Streets. An elderly man diligently
Sweeps. Light fog lingers. Bits of
conversations echoing
Overheard. Each offering
but a glimpse
Into a dreamer's world.

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Copyright 2004 Jimmy D Fuller (lord_fuller@hotmail.com).
Reproduction is prohibited without express permission of the author.

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The Shore Of Silence

by Taraneh Javanbakht

Grumbled again the tired wave of travel
in the charm of being in love with the
shore of silence. The reminiscences of
slavery were the bitter mysteries of its
seclusion. Finally in freedom it intended
not to like except the sad melodies. It
addressed the thirsty soil with its clamor:
"O! soil, my melodies for you became
the collisions of hope, my drops for you
the witnesses of life, I only demand you
to think alike, you became the quiet share
for my zenith."
The noble shore answered in this way:
"O! wave, pride of my stature, spectator
of my captivity, firmness of my body,
your breast is my sky, honour of the
mother sea, hero of waters! The years
this silence nestled in my heart. The
oppression of the brand of the sunshine,
acquaintance of my wound, the sky is not
any more a sympathetic friend for me,
the story of the stars is not in my mouth,
the captivity of earth became my bitter
narrative."

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Copyright 2004 by Taraneh Javanbakht (tjavanbakht@yahoo.ca).
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Suppose you're a stranded child

by Luke Buckham

Suppose that you're a toddler being held
in your single mother's arms in a parking lot
while she uses her other arm to load groceries
into the trunk. And in one of the cars nearby
a terrorist's bomb goes off, flinging molten shards
of metal through your mother's body,
her larger frame shielding your little one.
And she falls dead on top of you
like a sack of soggy vegetables,
and you are sheltered from the raining metal
by her embracing corpse. And you wail
in terror under her limp, incredibly large
and heavy body, forced to push away
from her breasts and her arms that can't cradle,
to avoid suffocation. And you finally
get out from under her body, and the police
find you and lead you away weeping
before you have a chance to kiss her
goodbye on the cheek. And you grow up
in foster homes with other orphans,
and your substitute parents do not resemble you,
and your friends are all orphans who eventually
disappear to go to other homes, while you remain behind,
not wanting to remind anyone of their previous
desolation by reminding them of yourself.
And one day you meet a very lonely girl,
and she holds you in her arms, calling you
the most interesting person she's ever
seen on an otherwise boring planet,
and you fall in love with her even though
she seems a bit crazy, because she has shown you
such affection, and because her body bristles
near yours like wings about to take off,
and because when she makes love to you
you forget to think about your own loneliness.
And one day she cheats on you, even though
you're the most interesting person on earth,
and she won't look you in the eye anymore,
or make love to you without crying in guilt,
and so you depart from her like a cart of bones,
her every smiling glance burning into your nerves
through memory. And you smack your forehead
against many hotel walls in order to kill the braincells
that contain her sorrowful and angular face.
And you wander the streets, unable to hold down a job
because of the dark spirit she let loose in you
by taking away your first real joy, leaving you
in a permanent frenzy, your guts milked numb
by sobbing, and the streetlights
grow deadening eyes and turn
to look at you with their cold alien heads.
And so in your dreams you find yourself
back in that bombed parking lot,
with nobody to lead you away
from the corpse, and your mother's cheek
lies there in a semblance of sleep, torn and tearless.
And you nervously watch the tar and its cracks
running with her blood for any small flower, grass or
dandelion to draw your eyes
away, away from this scene for even a minute.

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Copyright 2004 by Luke Buckham (aworminmywall@hotmail.com ).
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Dark Days

by Albert Lawrence

The streets are silent,
and the once thriving neighborhood
have all shut their doors.
In fear of the demon of pestilence!
Whose shape and form is elusive,
permeating the air with the breath of poison,
sweeping across vast cities
and landscapes, once vibrant with life.
Now filled with graves of the living,
not one but by the thousands!
In these confines of a funeral vault,
time is immobilized, and nature disintegrates.
Humanity suffocates in the stifling darkness,
giving rise to unyielding fear.
Ah, but it is fear that keeps you alive!
So fear! That you may live through these dark days.
A witness to a new dawn,
Where nature is the predator and man becomes the prey!

Written On The Sars Epidemic Outbreak

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Copyright 2004 by Albert Lawrence (slawrence12@hotmail.com ).
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