Featured Poems

From Sound to Words

by on February 19, 2019 :: 0 comments

Traveling at a high rate of speed
Like the wings of a humming bird,
From fruitful melodies
And higher cliffs,
Where music reached into the clouds
And mingled with the
Voices of the rain,
It followed me into the darkness
And touched my silent wits,
Myself without substance or worth,
A pebble washed up upon the shore,
And illuminated my soul
With a liquid flame
And drew open the
Curtains of the universe
As I peeked into its pulsating heart
And saw the alpha and the omega,
The gardens of pure thought,
Voices not of this world
But of a sound that touched my spine.

As I wrote the first word
I could sense that my hand
Didn’t belong to me.
It was part of another planet,
A sphere of dreams and higher thought.
I was a genius who knew nothing.
I could feel the words
Flowing into my body,
My prison, my inhibitions, my world,
Hammering them into my mind,
My child of seasoned thought,
Looking into the world with big eyes.

I, of inherited thought,
A manufactured genius,
A child still lost in the wilderness,
Tried to understand what I wrote
As I stood amazed at
What the music did to me.

editors note:

A man, no script, to manuscript; muse-ic man. – mh clay

For Everyone

by on February 18, 2019 :: 0 comments

For every snowflake that falls on the tundra
there is a package on Amazon’s conveyor belt
in Seattle or Arlington
with a trinket or a gold watch or a
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle
that someone will open up to find
because it is not what they thought
so they send it back and get hit with
a restocking fee
and complain to Amazon or VISA or
about how badly they’ve been treated

For every time a man has whistled at
a pretty girl on a street corner and
got nothing to show for it
another pornographic website pops up
in cyberspace showing
how big your dick can be
or how easy it is to get women
or offering you cyberchats that will
change your life
so now cyberspace
is almost as big as the universe God created
on the first day

For every grain of sand on the beach
there is a drop of water in the ocean
for every drop of water in the ocean
there is a piece of junk plastic swirling around
in the Great Pacific garbage patch
a vortex bigger than Texas
for every piece of junk –
straws, Coke bottles, seat covers, sandwich bags
there is an idiot throwing them in the ocean
thinking to himself
‘this is no big deal
It’s just a straw’
for every idiot who throws a straw in the ocean
there is another idiot who thinks
the first idiot should be taken out and shot
so that humanity is divided in half
into two groups of idiots that
hate each other
this is part of God’s plan

then a poet comes along
a real wise guy and says
there are more idiots out there than
plastic junk in the ocean
than grains of sand on the beach
than drops of water
than snowflakes
than stars in the sky
all that is untrue
God, in His wisdom
when He made the universe
saw to it that there will always be more stars
than idiots
we are constantly discovering
that the universe keeps getting bigger
as our telescopes improve

so the poet‘s claim gets weaker and weaker
it is almost like God is saying
‘I made you in my image and likeness
but I’m never going to let you gang up
on Me
I’ll keep both sides of you fighting
each other
until you reach a critical mass ’
so He
in His wisdom
one day may just
scrap this universe and start over
make another one
with sand and stars and galaxies and constellations
and make wiser poets out of us
who look up and see God
smiling like a Happy Meal

editors note:

To us idiots, everywhere: Wake up and smell the Happy Meal. – mh clay

¿En Que Idioma Hablas Tú? (What language do you speak?)

by on February 17, 2019 :: 1 comment


1. relating to Spain, its people, its culture, or its language

When you ask me if I am fluent in Spanish, I will tell you that my language is a restless child, always hungry and impatient, always reaching for things it cannot grasp.
My language is beautiful, it is selfish, it is brave.
When you ask me if I am fluent in Spanish, I will tell you what it’s like to be full of paella and too much love.
My Spanish is knowing God in more than one language
It is beautiful, all knowing, impossible.
It is who I am.
Sometimes, I forget how to speak it.
I reach for syllables that do not come, but somehow manage to be present.
They fill parts of me I did not know were empty.
My Spanish teases the President and cannot be deported.
It is asking myself whether or not I am white,
My Spanish is “Are you awake yet?”
“There’s a lot of work to do today.”
My Spanish is begging my tías to tell me about their homeland,
Sometimes too much, sometimes not enough.
My Spanish prays out loud
My Spanish is siéntate niña, y escúchame
When you ask me if I am fluent in Spanish,
I will tell you that I earned a dual literacy certificate in the fifth grade.
It’s the silence that hangs in the air when I’m done talking in my AP class
Or the color of sangria fruit
My Spanish is a half-written story that weaves between two languages
It cannot be governed nor deferred.
It is an emotion and a way of thinking, a system of belief.
I am the halfway point between two countries,
Hispanic American.
My language was fed to me in tortilla Española,
It was read to me out of the Bible
It made me who I am.
My Spanish esta muy hambriento
My Spanish is bien ruidoso
My Spanish es muy callado.
Now I understand why my grandmother never learned how to speak English.
She planted her language like seeds between my lips
And I never gave it up.
When you ask me if I am fluent in Spanish,
I will tell you I am descendant of an immigrant who never got a citizenship
I will tell you I am not a dream to be deferred
I will tell you I am Hispanic American, and in my grandmother’s country, we don’t build walls.
We are proud of who we are and we will not be silenced or governed or deported.
When you ask me if I am fluent in Spanish,
I will say,
Yes, I am.

– Lillie Davidson

editors note:

Whatever we speak, speak freely! – mh clay

A Little Bit Of Awesome

by on February 16, 2019 :: 0 comments

The truth I’ve found
is that most people just
aren’t all that awesome.
They’re just ok.

I’ve met a few over the years though
that had an awesome streak
in one way or another
and I’ve tried to love that in them
as much as I could.

Of course I acknowledge
the possibility
that this truth is just
a matter of my own perspective
and the awesomeness
I have found
in the few places I’ve found it
is meaningless
to a broader audience.
In which case humans
are all just ordinary
and predictable.

But I prefer to remember it
the way I remember it.

With a little bit of awesome.

editors note:

Pick your awesome. It’s your perspective all the way. – mh clay


by on February 15, 2019 :: 0 comments

to Nina Simone sing “Ooh, Child”
I let my mind roll slip trip
back reverse into yesteryear
while considering
my love
a crazy place called
the Magic Kingdom
and it’s almost impossible
to know the who
why where
of the emotional attachment

you have a magical time as a child
and you imprint events

The smile on your mom’s pretty face
Christmas mornings
summer always
but of course, Disneyland…

some of us grow
out of the dream or
the wish the heart wants to make

concentrate on work
blood pressure tests
or no guns
or not enough abortions

As the purple balloon rises
you’re losing it
the string
cutting across the soft skin
of your lifeline

And how fucking sad is that?

editors note:

Sad, indeed! Thanks (for nothing), Walt! – mh clay


by on February 14, 2019 :: 0 comments

Far away from voluptuary urges
I’m an exemplar of austerity, of
sorts. Justification is a justificat-
ion. Perceptions fly quicker than
any makeover. We’re what we’re
in our minds.

editors note:

Hard to decipher when perceptions come faster than the speed of mind. – mh clay

Who am I and why?

by on February 13, 2019 :: 1 comment

Who am I
And why?
I am standing before you
Tell me
Explain me
Interpret my inside story.

You are clean.
You reflect the clean.
Do I? And why?

You are inside me.
Tell me honestly today
Do you see me as I am reflecting?
Tell me what is the wrong that I did
knowing or unknowing?

I have faith in me,
I am the best friend of mine.
I respect the brotherhood,
I am simple.
Want to be humble,
I didn’t make drinking water dirty.
Never cut any tree on roadside or inside forest.
Loved all freely
Never laughed feeling sad inside.

Tell me how much pain is waiting for me
Tell me how much joy is lying in wait,
Tell me how many wishes twinkle on my forehead?

Yes, reflect me
I am giving up crying today,
Yes, I am keeping all of my joys in my behind.

Tell me who am I
And why?
Oh, looking glass
I am standing in front of you without facial and makeup,
See me,
Tell me,
Reflect my inside story
As I am reflecting.

– Rajumoni Saikia

editors note:

Self-evaluation as a mirror game; maybe need to reverse the response. – mh clay