“If you can't find your inspiration by walking around the block one time,
go around two blocks-but never three.”
The Service Suicides
The American soldier suicides from the Afghan and Iraqi wars have gathered on the porch of the former president’s house in a wealthy neighborhood of Dallas.
They are shades, mostly invisible. The secret service guards are trained to spot what is tangible. The shades wait patiently most of the cool October day until the twilight comes. Finally one steps forward and rings the doorbell.
The shades of suicide do not have the best eyesight, and so when a man answers the door in the late light, they assume it’s the former president.
“Sir,” the shade spokesman says, “may I address you as the Indians do, as the great father?”
The man at the door seems to nod and the shade continues. “We are here, your loyal soldiers now passed, to put your troubled heart at ease, great father. We know that terrible nightmares must haunt you daily over the innocents killed in your two wars. We can’t speak for all, but we–the soldier suicides of your wars--have come to say we have forgiven you, and our families, which have suffered so, will someday in the future, forgive you. Go forward, great father, and live in joy and peace.”
The suicides then leave the porch and float away into the star-filled heavens. Up and up they go, the thousands, like smoke rising from a fire. The man–a butler–walks down to the curb to check the mail. He smiles a little, noticing the flurry of October leaves spin off the wide lawn.
- Chuck Taylor
editor's note: Great fathers are oblivious to what their butlers know; service men to service man. - mh
Vagina Monologue Blues In E Flat Live From The G Spot
My inner goddess is posting duck face selfies on Facebook.
My inner goddess is Crip walking to Oingo Bongo 'Grey Matters' on YouTube.
My inner goddess is improvising confessional poems of urbane Ennui mid coitus.
My inner goddess talks before, during and after intercourse.
My inner goddess never read any of the books or watched the movies.
My inner goddess only read the fan fiction that inspired 50 shades.
My inner goddess is just messing with your head
because that’s what goddesses do.
My inner goddess loves to play rock, paper, scissors.
My inner goddess always scissors.
My inner goddess is part Indian.
My inner goddess be making it rain up in here.
My inner goddess can’t dance.
My inner goddess drives a stick.
My inner goddesses’ neighbor is an asshole.
My inner goddess is getting a new piercing.
My inner goddess has a stigmata.
My inner goddess has a Mohawk.
My inner goddess is thinking about dreads.
My inner goddess puffs on a cigar.
My inner goddess blows smoke rings in your face.
My inner goddess is a bad mutha’ fu…
Shut yo’ mouth!
But, I’m just talking about my inner goddess?!
My inner goddess rules!
...with an iron fist.
- Joey Da'rrell Cloudy
(1 poem added 01.24.15)
editor's note: Best bow down to this bitch, keep her in; if she ever comes out, we're f**ked. - mh
Sudden and cold
I felt it
understood to be etched
by your senses
with simple shades
a trace of you
on my skin
- Elissa Landrigan
(1 poem added 01.23.15)
editor's note: Boy, sweet duck ain't drenched in you! Thought you'd make a splash, but only left her dry. Boy!? - mh
The stars are white hot flames
lingering in the ebony sky
as I bleed my life away.
A man as mad as a shroud
of crows crosses my path,
mumbling jibberish to himself.
I turn away as the violet purple fog
hangs in the air like
a chandelier that needs dusting.
- Dawnell Harrison
(1 poem added 01.22.15)
editor's note: Shrug off the shroud and break out your duster. - mh
i took the time to look
to see the fresh youthful
skin frothing at the rim
my cup so empty, nearing the bottom
for some time i have hoped for something
a pen, a paper, look, lights,
the thing that is real or happening I’m not sure of
i never knew it could be this way
awake without ears, so quiet
eyes blurred with simplicity
one down, mine
head is tilted, sagging to the edge yet
hopeful for something
any colors, any birds or water for my mouth
so sour and dry spitting sadly at this scream
it could be you, all your fresh
downy powder of rose on my tongue
the tip of you, so slender and quick
relish a ghoul inside my bed
he is all i have left.
- Kayla Siobhan
(1 poem added 01.21.15)
editor's note: A flame to fire another solitude, left with a ghoulish union. - mh
“No friendship only /
the prehensile of the darkness…”
“…utensils of the mind are /
bent from the dehiscence of…”
“…old memories timeworn deeply /
in my mind a scheduled prelude that…”
“…protrudes in violence, silence /
“… rational relevance of mindfulness /
suffocated by an emotional ride …”
“…downward crash /
with no mental lines …”
“…for thee to cross /
for the lines are distressed …”
“…break marks of hue /
I have lost all …”
“…clues of functional views /
as I transverse…”
“…mayday, mayday in this darkness of solitude."
- James Brown
(1 poem added 01.20.15)
editor's note: A disturbing conversation, held by two sides of one solitude. - mh
Inside the cliff,
I hear the waters
Far down: below.
Desiccated I walk
From your beauty,
And the charm
Got you in my dream
Who is going to interpret?
What does it mean?
I am waiting,
A deserted: heart.
The echoing cliff,
Semblance of you
- Hem Raj Bastola
(1 poem added 01.19.15)
editor's note: What speaks from loss comes back with longing. Oh, thirsty heart! - mh