featured in the poetry forum October 7, 2021  :: 0 comments

I got close, real close
to Heaven
and was asked
what the fuck I was
doing wandering in
this sacred
‘Just taking a look’
I said
‘What for? this is
not your home! Just
because you think
you hold the key
doesn’t mean you
can get through
the door! are you
looking for a
Heaven asked:
‘Haven’t we been
doing that for
centuries already?’
I said:
‘I guess so’
said Heaven
as we sat down
for a breather.

editors note:

Just a peek don’t mean you seek. – mh clay


featured in the poetry forum April 22, 2021  :: 0 comments

I had remained silent
during the interview, so
they put me in a cell:
a couple of hours later
the custody officer made
his rounds: he was a
father to a friend of
mine and he asked me
how I was and if I was
hungry: he got me a
hot-meal and coffee:
a few hours later, I
was questioned again
and my tongue
remained numb so
they kicked my ass out
of that cold police
station into the warmth
of a summer’s
morning, just waking
up and thirsty for the
plunge into this
life of ours and to
this day, I give thanks
to that custody officer,
that was my first
hot-meal I’d had
in days.

editors note:

A feast for the fifth and a warm morning, too. – mh clay


featured in the poetry forum June 2, 2020  :: 0 comments

It’s only when it’s taken away that
you realize the beauty, the wonder
of freedom,
to walk freely,
without fear
amongst brothers and sisters,
it’s only when it is no
longer there, the love, compassion,
the humanity,
the common sense
of intelligence,
it’s only when you find these
things taken for granted
taken away, that you begin
to know what a fucking
hellish time we can create
for one another:
there’s not much else to care
for in this brief life
except for love and it’s

editors note:

Hellish we can be, indeed. So, let’s not be. – mh clay


featured in the poetry forum January 12, 2020  :: 0 comments

I very rarely socialize these days,
people no longer bother to invite
me to social gatherings
but today we visited some
long-time friends for lunch:
afterward we got very stoned
on his powerful grass and
we spoke as only friends can
and I admire his strong and
traditional conventionality,
it drives him onwards, he is
sacrificing himself daily
and he hates it and longs
for old age and retirement,
when all responsibility
has been spent,
I know how he feels,
so do you in some way,
like waiting in line
on an escalator
waiting for the hand
to hit the red button.

editors note:

Some in front, some behind; we sacrifice, we stand in line… – mh clay


featured in the poetry forum May 19, 2019  :: 0 comments

I have drowned in
your presence,
sunk way below
where you can
see me,
flares and the
choirs of ghosts
wrap around me
like newspaper
headlines of
but I know I’ll
surface in your
eyes when they
leak tears and
the sun gives up
for the moon.

editors note:

Cry makes clean. Bask and breathe. – mh clay


featured in the poetry forum August 26, 2018  :: 0 comments

‘We are looking for
exciting, daring and
works of poetry,
words that sting,
dark and humorous,
words that loiter
like a street-thief
in the reader’s head
long after reading
and what we’re also
looking for is a
$5.00 reading fee.’

editors note:

Ouch. It’s bad enough the price you pay from pen to page. Insult. Outrage. – mh clay


featured in the poetry forum April 11, 2018  :: 0 comments

Let me catch you,
with imagination,
with blood and
dreams in your
breath, with a fierce
heat in your words
and a baby
tenderness in your
let me see you in
harmony with the
time you spin like
a child’s toy across
the roads of your
beautiful journey
amongst the tragedy
of everyday living,
let me,
just one time,
be with you
for a moment is all
is needed to taste an
unspoiled love.

editors note:

Does “just one time” keep it fresh; how can we not go back for more? – mh clay


featured in the poetry forum August 26, 2017  :: 0 comments

As I was never invited to
parties, I opted to gate-
crash them:
one occasion I was
talking and moving in
close to a brunette when
this guy eases himself in
between the brunette
and me:
I tell him to back the fuck-
away, which he does:
‘Do you know who that is?’
the girl asks me, I shake my
‘It’s his house, it’s his party
and he’s a friend of mine’
he returns with 2 side-kicks:
‘I’d like you to leave now’
he politely asks:
‘You want to come with me?’
I ask the woman:
she takes my hand and we
walk away and for three
years we loved and fucked
each other until it meant

editors note:

When doing leads meaning, sometimes meaning is lost (or never found). – mh clay


featured in the poetry forum January 29, 2017  :: 0 comments

He hobbled into the room
on 2 crutches, a plaster
caste on one of his legs;
a podgy, baby-faced 18
year old lisping fellow,
with dramatic and
feminine mannerisms;
‘I want to kill myself’
he told me several
times; he waved his
arms around and
fluttered his eyes
and said
‘I’ve tried to end it
all, several times’
he covered his face
in his soft hands and
shook his head
obviously he wasn’t
too good at this suicide
‘What happened to your
leg’ I asked;
‘I tried to hang myself’
he said looking out
of the window; ‘the
rope snapped under
my weight and I fell
crashing to the floor,
breaking my ankle in
3 places’
‘That must’ve hurt’
I said
He pursed his lips and
‘Like nothing
you’ve ever known’
I looked away;
‘I’ll never try to hang
myself again’
he said
‘it was a truly awful
and I wouldn’t
recommend it’.

editors note:

Like she said, “Might as well live.” – mh clay


featured in the poetry forum August 2, 2016  :: 0 comments

As a young man
I was never a great
success with the
it wasn’t that I
lacked the urge or
the desire but
rather I always felt
awkward and ugly
and always ended
up saying
dumb and I was
always the first to
get crazy drunk
get into some kind
of hassle;
naturally I had my
times with the girls
and enjoyed the
majesty of their
flesh and gentleness
and their special
ways that I’ll
never understand
and my curiosity
hasn’t diminished;
I love women
and at over half
a century old I’m
a little more at
ease with feminine
beauty and their
natural sensuous
within their eyes
and lips and hair and
the way of their
sunsets, the way of
their worlds and
the music they make;
forever captivated
enchanted by the
flames of heaven
and hell.

editors note:

The ultimate incarceration; prison divine. (We welcome John D. to our creative confab of Contributing Poets with this submission. Read more of his madness on his new page – check it out.) – mh clay