Worlds Worthwhile Words

Nov 2015

mark john junor

a slow slipping into the dark abyss of thinking
such dark wicked thought twists
on the vines overgrowing the living breathing edge of perception
its hard white metal edge baking in ever present sunlight
like wine i am a drunkard of the softest touch
i am a ***** to the sweetest line
master of none...fool for some
its all a memory a moment after it happened
so why am i so glued to the window paine
staring into the brief bright glitter of passing time
staring into the abyss

her eyes slowly scattered across my form
as her words escaping in rapid succession
splatter the cold tile like breadcrumbs for the miserable beast
the trail of which is lewd in my mind like razors
her reservations slip back into her lips past thick gloss
her dire predictions limp hollow into the
heavy thick humid florida air
laughing like a mad mad woman
like a mad mad man

teeth gritted and hands contorted to the form
of the pill bottle long empty
the headache has returned to her lips
spew itself across the dim room
leaving splashes of hand wrought pain
leaving traces of hand carved memories
her tricycle broken and burning
her doll sitting in darkness
she weeps
i sleep

Nov 2015

Tanya M

A Kind of Love

I wanna love someone

A farmers market kind of love
all natural-homegrown

Omelette afternoons and french pressed kisses
a converse walk to bookstores love

Kitchen dancing to kind of blue
kind of love…

Bit lower lip…hand on hip
early evening light
undress…let me see you kind of love

Angels in the linen love
lavender soap shower
perfectly tired love

A tangled sleep together
sweet together love

A love that wakes us up
to more and more
love.

Nov 2015

Sjr1000

Veterans Day in the USA (Anniversary Repost)

"Soldiers Heart"
Two brothers on their way
one wore blue
and
one wore gray
one came home
one stayed behind
one mother mourns
on a November's day.
212,938
bled and died
on
American soil.

"Irritable Heart"
14 years in the Philippines
far too many days
4200 died
so many miles away.

"Shell Shock"
Johnny got his gun
alive in the tomb
of his mind
no eyes
no ears
no arms
no legs
a beating heart
an active mind
alive
with memories and sensations
Paths of Glory
leads
the way
and 53,402 stay
while one came home.

"Battle Fatigue"
291,557
perished.
Nagasaki got its bomb
six million died
before our fathers and grandfathers
liberated them.

To the 38th Parallel
we did go
where old soldiers
never die
they just fade away
with
time.
33,746 died.

"Stress Response Syndrome"
Apocalypse Now
Jacob had his ladder
in
the jungles of Vietnam
Full Metal Jacket
Born in the USA
homeless veterans
now aged still pay today
while 47,424
lay in their graves.

"Post Traumatic Stress Disorder"
My daughter
my son-in-law
bring it all
back home to me
Navy Medics
seven years
they traveled with the Marines
picking up the pieces
as they went their way
many too many trips
for all those young
troops
now we are
seeing
their heroism
proceeding
despite being afraid
a price
dearly
we all pay.
5,282 and still counting.

For all those who have walked in the horrors of war
and the grief too countless to tell.
Let us all pray in our way,
work in our days
for the end of war.

"Soldiers Heart" etc, the evolving terms for what is now known as PTSD.
Two Brothers on their way is a beautiful, beautiful Civil War song. "Two sisters stood by the railroad tracks, one wore blue and one wore black. "

Johnny Got His Gun by Dalton Trumbo the ultimate anti-war novel, he was later black listed during the McCarthy Hearings.
Paths of Glory, Stanley Kubrick, about WWI.

Apocalypse Now, Francis Ford Coppola (on my top five movie list.)
Jacobs Ladder, Tim Robbins, haunting Vietnam war movie.
Full Metal Jacket, Kubrick again.
Born in the USA, the Boss, Bruce Springsteen.

My daughter, Katie, defines courage proceeding
despite being scared.
Doug's sense of humor and loving heart
he proceeds despite what he has seen.

Originally posted 11/11/14, and the beat goes on.

Nov 2015

irinia

allegro ma non troppo

It is you whom I love today. I love you with all my loves.*
Frida Kahlo

screaming gold and exulting light
I betrayed the sunset today
still life without promises the city
there comes that tone again
in the storehouses of flesh
where life dreams itself
you’ve colonized me
with hate and desire
unstable tempo
my eyes blind
like a storm without wind
I disfigured some light today
its unpretended beauty
no paradox
not even a surprise
I fall for these wounds, your burden
the taste of failure
the panic of not knowing
the trembling of your feet
no need for signifying something
for an ending or a touch
there is love without desire
desire without love
you can call me crazy
if this is all
you can say
at the end of the day

Nov 2015

David Alexander Walker

Immortality

sooner or later
we all wither and die
like summer flowers
and blow away forgotten
or find immortality
of questionable value
pressed between pages

Choka

Nov 2015

Day

letters from my father to yours

ares,
wake your son.
tell him the battle will go away if he keeps his eyes
open long enough.
tell him that his mind is his greatest
comrade and enemy,
and that he does not need to know
when which is which just yet; but to
trust himself enough to
live with the consequence of either.

ares,
wake your son.
tell him to find his mother within him,
and not look to you and your plights as a
reflection.
he was born from love and war,
love and war,
and more time was spent in the womb of
the prior; that wars have been
waged for the word,
and resolved by the same.

ares,
wake your son.
remind him that, while the
sun does not revolve around him,
it depends on what he determines his
sun to be.
may he have many
and learn to appreciate them equally.
i am too old to keep making stars.
the sky is full.

ares,
wake your son.
press your thumb to his forehead,
wrap your arm around his shoulder,
he needs to know that he is cared for,
though i cannot understand;
who has he met that has told him otherwise?
touch him only if he asks,
but read his eyes- he is asking.

ares,
wake your son.
the son of war has battled.
tear him from the lip of vulcan,
remind him of the mistakes of troy,
teach him what these men did not have
that he does.
if he does not,
remind him that while he is your seed,
he is the nephew of athena.
promise him he can learn-
he can.

ares,
wake your son.
the son of love is loved.
wake him to remind him he is alive-
poseidon likes to play games,
and he seems to have gotten to his mind.
he has not yet drowned,
and he never will.
****** will bring him up with winds,
it is up to him to fall or ride them.

ares,
wake your son.
he has grieved too long
over battles he has not yet fought
and may never have to.

ares,
wake your son.

***
- apollo

#love #war #stars #apollo #greek #ares

Nov 2015

r

Dead leaves

Dead leaves, a dying tree;
silent in a tattered hat,
pausing in his quiet task,
reading poems of T.E. Hulme.

T.E. Hulme (1883 - 1917) heavily influenced Imagist poetry and modernism in the early twentieth century. One of the zeitgeist, only six of his poems were published during his short life. Killed in battle near Flanders in 1917, he is buried in the Koksijde Military Cemetery, Belgium.

His headstone carries the inscription: “One of the War Poets”.

#imagist

Nov 2015

John Edward Smallshaw

Time

A most valuable asset
we let
slip,
we
trip over the
numbers
on the dial,
why not file
a complaint?

Nov 2015

mark john junor

a conspiracy of lusts

center of my soul
down there in the wet hot sandy soils
down there where the black dog digs
her claws furiously tearing at the thick grainy clumps

center of my soul
an inescapable silence clouds my thoughts
like her deep eyes lingering on my open face
like her words seeping slowly across the hard wet breeze

soft finger traces figurines into the damp frosting
in the bathroom mirror
a tactile thought
a brief pinpoint of light in the darkness of her embrace
her soft tangle of skin wraps itself across the surface of me
i feel her moisture and her warmth
texture of crumpled paper burning
texture of a smoke filled room
texture of a person who allready left

joined in a single moment
by a conspiracy of lusts
joined slowly in this dark touching
united in that quick heat of wanting

never seen in her face
never hoped in my closed eyed dreaming
the silence slips slowly past our window
it is everywhere
in the damp morning grass
in the temple of night
surpassed in the vault of morning light

Nov 2015

Dreams of Sepia

I got lost in the Subway once

***** faced angels in leather
swinging off neon signs
inside my head
I wanna get on that highway
& drive to
the motel of lost hopes
retrieve my teenage dreams
with a broken bottle
get me to the USA
Californian beaches
Louisiana swamps
Beatnik bums
all the things
that have called to me
in my head
not like other little girls
I never played with dolls
always dreaming of playing with fire
on the long dusty road
spitting out ghost shrapnel of Iron curtain
barbed wire
& I got lost in a Berlin subway once
& dreamed
I was in New York

It's when you lose the possibility of fulfilling your dreams that you cling to them the most.

#dreams #impossible #usa

Nov 2015

Dreams of Sepia

November rain

4 a.m rain, don't leave me now
we've got things to talk about
like how my clocks have stopped
& the loneliness of this heartbeat
& if you ever wish you were the sun instead
& if there is an afterlife
once human souls evaporate from the earth
& I know how the grey pavement glistens
under your touch, so let me keep
that beauty for a while longer
take a walk with me
let me dance to your drum's music
this unnaturally mild November
while the neighbors sleep
& the last leaves cling to the trees
dreaming of their bygone Springs
& Innocence

#rain #nature #thoughts #night #insomnia #eternity

Nov 2015

Jeremy Bean

Bitter

Sometimes I get angry
that it is so easy
for me to invoke emotion
in others
yet so hard
to do so
within myself.
Then I realize
that at least I still feel something.