Featured Poems

Wrapped up in White Coats with a Smile

by on February 21, 2018 :: 0 comments

A cold medicine fog in the head
served over the counter with a kiss
still pales in comparison to the tryst
enjoyed while dancing with drugs
during our roaring twenties
when prescriptions were never sought
because they could be filled
by friends without degrees
to alleviate the suffering and agony
temporarily one dose at a time.

It’s not the same game being played any longer
in these middle-aged years of wisdom
when detached peace has been achieved within
even while tragedies befall the world at large.
Double-edged crosses and encoded helixes
scratch the surface of DNA with a scalpel
to trigger the gene reflex of renunciation in cells
as sanctioned programs drift across television screens.

Woe be to the harbinger of chaos
who arrives on the scene and discovers
that the prophecy he’d been tasked to announce
already came to pass without much effort.
Fallen cities mirror the burning blood
sloshing with designer chemicals concocted in labs
that are pushed to birth a placated future
where pretty neon lights pulse us all to sleep.

editors note:

The future is soon to be our tragic past. So hard… to… wake… zzzzz. – mh clay

Fitting End

by on February 20, 2018 :: 0 comments

This being America, everyone’s been offed,
mostly shot. We grabbed Colts, Berettas,
Glocks — fitting end for love, friendship,

forgiveness, trust. We wasted rapists,
burglars, thugs. Those of different skin
or faith, friends we hate, our boss.

Knocked off waiters who whine, delay,
text a lot, shoppers ramming carts,
stopping mid-aisle to tweet, flipping

us off. Cheating lovers, drivers
who stink-eye, speed, pass. We blasted
telemarketers last. Every trial,

over in a flash. Defendants,
lawyers, all were snuffed. Even judges
wasted jurors waving guns.

editors note:

We seem to be going truly viral. In the end, the guns will buy themselves. – mh clay

Airs Trouvere

by on February 19, 2018 :: 0 comments

That force that came in search of me,
From the city streets and from the sea,

From heated passion and raging fires,
From solemn melodies and melted lyres.

It came into my house, my frozen palace.
It slipped through the guards, the hallway past.

It took me prisoner with its own silent words.
It flavored my breath with its exotic herbs.

It threw me into the ocean and set me adrift.
It hovered over me then gave me a lift.

It dug into my heart with its gilded shovels.
It dragged me thru’ stately mansions and hovels.

It took life and hung it over my rusty eyes.
That I may see the silent words of the wise.

It dressed up the rhetoric in flamboyant suits,
And marched it in front with drums and flutes.

It swirled with the tempest and played roulette.
It climbed in my dream and brought the sunset.

It broke into my house in the name of poetry,
That power that came and left me be,

As my feet were implanted in the ground therein,
My heart broke loose and danced with the wind.

editors note:

Sweet reverie, come dance with me. Thanks, Robert! – mh clay


by on February 18, 2018 :: 0 comments

It seems like a lifetime ago now
A time when it seemed fine to blow my wad
Enough to last a week now just on books
In a legendary shop in this town
Where I was apparently living as a long-term resident

It all started as things often did back then
One of confusion as I navigated streets
I’d never walked all the way from
Oakland to the infamous North Beach
And a hotel of ill-repute

When I’d booked it the only thing that mattered
Where location and the amount of $$ and this place
Fitted in perfectly as it didn’t cost much
But as I walked up Columbus I viewed
The entrance and other places made of legend

Walking in I noticed the cage at the end of the corridor
That apparently was the reception so up I walked
And introduced myself only to be shocked by the response
“Oh yes, our new long-term guest” the guy stated
And I thought that was odd as I was only staying five nights
And then I saw it, a notice that told me
There were rooms for an hour.

editors note:

All seek long-term residence; but, ultimately, pay by the hour. – mh clay

Halfway Friendly

by on February 17, 2018 :: 0 comments

In the land of ten-thousand bent nails
peace skews a little sideways,
right of the pot smoke, left of the unregulated industries.

I do not own a claw-hammer.

I am not a tenacious advocate of Emily Dickinson.

If only sunflowers grew in my sister’s garden this time of year,
Wisconsin would be a much brighter place
or simply possess more yellow beneath gray slate.

editors note:

Peace, from what we don’t and what we aren’t, would shine a little brighter with a touch of color. (Read another mad missive from Kenneth on his page; about branded belief – check it out.) – mh clay


by on February 16, 2018 :: 0 comments

Until it comes from you
there’s no light
only doubt
which befalls
a disquiet
of uncertainties

As the world dies
I believe the universe lies
even as astronomers
connect new planets
to dazzling stars
black holes intensify

I turn to an aching
to a radiance emerging
out of reach
to life’s iron crust
grinding our breath

All things are invasions
of celestial planes
by lusting after
guiding suns
Black holes breathe

Life is a bottleneck
we squeeze through
by ego clinging to
Eternity means

– Dah Helmer

editors note:

Pick the lie you like best; make Eternity meaningful (never mean). – mh clay

Startled by You

by on February 15, 2018 :: 0 comments

I jump out of bed
And look in the mirror
I’m startled by you
The dark nights
The profuse sweats
The panic attacks
They’re gone
And I’m as light as a lark
In the morning

The irony of it all…

But no regrets
What’s done is done
I don’t understand it
And I don’t care
I’m well for the first time in my long life
I only see colours
In the mirror
Vibrant oranges, golds and reds.

I’m forming a bond
With my transformation

The Black Swan
Now a sweet singing
Robin Red Breast
The Cloud has lifted
The suffering has ended.

Looks like I waited my whole life
For this fine morning
It’s not impossible
To conquer the blackness
Just watch me!

I look in the mirror
And I’m
Startled by you.

– Maria Ní Mhurchú

editors note:

First and best full disclosure must be made to self. Startling! – mh clay