By Casey L. Covel Heroes don’t get sick Icons don’t need pills Warriors don’t have cricks Saviors don’t get chills Iron on my tongue Needles in my skin Asphalt in my lungs Anguish in my grin Fading like a spark Every breath a bid Cringing in the dark Smiling at…
by John P. Kristofco Sometimes she remembers those who come;sometimes she does not,her dreams blur with world she really sees: “I made doughnuts at the stove last night, before the men crawled from the pantry with their guns.”She sits inside the complex of a hoarder’s life,storing things forever from the thief who…
by Kristal Peace Poetry is the sound of the soul Crying. It is the way the heart speaks when there is no one Who will listen. It is the voice of those who have been compelled to be Silent For so long. Poetry is Pain: Distilled.
by Eleanore Lee Glow from belowWaves are all aboutHow we go. They’re aboutHow we see and hear. Sea undulatesAlwaysSurges and fallsHere bright glitterOf surface sparkleGleaming streamsThat pull and heave.Watch the wake!See the dolphins leap and plunge by the side of our boat, weaveThrough the water,up and down.Cataclysms of foamPour in…
by John P. Kristofco Sat there smoking, reading texts,her old black car purring in the chill October air,dark hair swept to shouldersrounded like the hillsidesshaped by years behind that wheel;the wrinkle of her mouth,shadows at the corners of her eyes,skin that caught the yellow morning light,lips too thin, it seemed,…
by Gil Hoy I walk behind you, Allen Ginsberg, under the bright neon lightsof your California supermarket. I worry you’ll turn, bite my neck And suck out my blood, while yawping hysterically. I am America’shomophobic store detective and you are under arrest. America apologizes for your headache self conscious. You, for…
by The Poet Darkling I gaze upon the poet;her words – ponderless, profound;deep and dark and blue –and think,what such have I to offerfrom my humble beginningsor my sordid pastto justify the title of poet? To answer the unanswerable? To defend my consumptionof fish, of fowl, of air, of love?…
by Kristal Peace My confidant… How did we get here againTo knives thrownHoles madeVows shatteredFeelings swayed. My ally… When did we find our way backTo moments beforeCivilized discourseTo rage and fearAnd throats screamed hoarse. My sympathizer… Why do we prefer the roadAdorned with bramblesThistles and thornsLittered with grudgesAnd studded with…
by The Poet Darkling Wrenched from the fryerstraight into the flamesof hatred and avarice goall duty and senseand a thousand convictionswe’ve deemed unneeded,such as dignity, pride,and any righteous defense when our moral leaders areneither leaders nor moraland we give them a passto escape the blamewhich belongs to no oneexcept We…
by Thomas Griffin The night before the August blue moon howling with coyotes on Putney Mtn warning barks of dogs alarmed someone entered their tethered territory, wailing past the yipping coyotes in the Brookline valley below eight off-key crooners concatenations of lament, ballyhoo, query. Who are you lone brother why…