"it's true what they say, the revolution will not be televised" he said to me hands in his pocket both our faces to the sky i had told him that when you walk by buildings in the shadows of their jutting brimstone, when you watch them go by overhead, it's more beautiful.

"the revolution is every day." i said. "every minute, every month, every lifetime we all have the choice to engage or not engage in the revolution of kindness and humanity. we have the power in us to contribute the the energy of our world in a negative or positive way."

it's true what they say.

the revolution won't be televised.

because the television has never told a real love story.

it starts out with one single revolution getting it's voice. then that revolution meets three other revolutions, and then those revolutions find five more revolutions to coalesce with, and soon they all find themselves drawn to hundreds of other revolutions, all bursting to the brim in a single room, in the middle of an obliviously sleepy city.

the revolution sings with a pretty voice and coats the city in warm sheets of sweet song, and he rolls over the pillow to awaken in awe to the revolution, with humbled eyes.

the city remembers last night when the revolution looked so beautiful in it's dress of vowels and consonants. they had tangoed and gone home together and the city knew the revolution was not a mad twist of fate it was destiny, not good luck, that had brought him to her feet, as he took off her shoes and placed them at the foot of the bed.

the revolution had been quiet, with a secret smile, dressed in dappled yellow rays of evening sun, the revolution saw honesty in the words that swam around them as they walked home under streetlights. the conversation had all been sweet truths.

the revolution doesn't have to hide it's skin under layers of fabric because of her beauty. the revolution is not afraid of hate, and the revolution understands how the world works, but loves like a millionaire and knows she can never go broke when there are endless possibilities.

the revolution makes kindness her job, and she didn't have to go to school to know how to be compassionate. the revolution doesn't think in failure, she looks at money and sees paper, learns to pay her way with a currency of empathy and never counts her losses, only the lessons she has learned and the ones she has yet to.

the revolution wakes the sleeping city and tells him she makes mean scrambled eggs and her coffee isn't that bad either. she tells him to live in this moment, don't think about past, chances and mistakes, not even the future and what is out there in it. think about now.
this moment when we can be.
where we can be.
where anyone can be if they choose to live fulfillingly.

learn to love a silence and tame the emotions that roil in your stomach. learn to put down your hands when you are feeling violent. learn to fill your mouth with goodness up to your teeth it's amazing how grace can be so poignant, and yet go down to effortlessly. we are so easily choked by hate that this stirring feeling of calm is welcome.

welcome.

you are welcome.
you are a piece of the revolution, wake up the city.

I read somewhere,
that as adults,
we try growing into
the traits that would've
rescued our parents.
And when my father moved out
I started moving.
The day my his signature
danced across a set
of divorce papers,
my body became boat.
These ankles retracted anchor.
I have been sailor ever since.

2. Mental illness runs
in my mother's family
so leaving was more like
a race for sanity.
There are days when
I wonder if schizophrenia
is what happened
when Liz stopped writing.
When a poet stops being a poet
I guess all of that empty
silence leaves room for
the walls to start speaking.
There are days when I wander
just to see if my feet
are as fast as they
used to be.
I used to leave what I love.

3. I love a lot
so I jog often.
Not for hobby,
but for healing.

4. Survival is a scary thing,
especially when it means
running from what's
already been sewn into
your family genes.

5. If your body ever
feels foreign,
remember home is
where the heart is
so it is no worthless carcass.
Call it Cathedral.
You. Holy congregation
of bones filled to the brim
with sin but blessed
from birth.
Your skin is nothing short
of sacred. Sanctuary.
Your muscles only grow
from being torn and rebuilt
so it makes sense
for your walls
to crumble sometimes.
Destruction is a form
of creation.
And of course,
you will want to dance
amongst that rubble.
Movement is a sign of life.
Let them see
you're still alive.

6. This life is magic
and you come from
a long line of magicians.
We people of Black suits
and bow ties threaded
from braided chains.
We, wands for wrists,
perfect for reaching
for potions and people
and dreams.
We, top hats for teeth,
perfect for abracadabra speaking
things into existence.
We, artists.
We, storytellers.
We, preachers and poets.
We who spit spells
disguised as poems.
Poems that work like
prayers born between pews.
We, walking sanctuaries
with pews for knees.
We who birth life. Love,
you are nothing short
of magic.

7. The day the spine
of my father's signature
tangoed along the rubble
of a broken marriage,
my mother's hips
kissed a beat like
Stevie Wonder
was just invented.
And my God,
is it lovely.
How she wears her lonely
in the sway of her shoulders.
See you come from
a long line of magicians
who don't need to be rescued.
You are not our final flare.
You are not our savior.
Love, you are my plagiarized draft
of a poem called God.

Morning pallor on a grey day
not a five cent shine
to the sun.

Bitumen hissed all night
trees tossed and tangoed
shuddered and split.

Navy clouds, blue with rain
surfed in from the ocean
racing on the wild wind
learning to scream.

The stones listened
moon listed and tried to find
a space in the cloud-tide rush
to quiet-light the gloom.

Morning Armistice on a pale grey day
of debris and displacement
refugees and leaf litter
surrender and detachment
silent and still
only a five cent shine to the sun

© M.L.Emmett

Through the masks and obscured within the lies, lays the truth unsaid in which all despise
Too much had been appraised, and much was fitfully un-right, so vastly dark within folded light
He was King, and she forever his Queen, still they hold each others hands, a thrilling vice in which they teamed
Their faces lit with withering sight, flightless eyes instead of cocky fulfilled and streaming plight
They tangoed to flooded phantom operas and darkly lit scenes, set with bloodset roses and heartfelt keys
Bowing inside the night they longfully romanced, ballerined on fruitless olden toes that would soon become cramped
Whispering together, they flee against the mournless sounds, that crept and prowled outside the bounds'
Deciding a long time ago to dance their lives away, to live within the fleeting joy and feel their heartbeats sway

Skyscrapers jut towards the heavens
middle fingers to mother nature
or sun-bleached white ribs of some poor beast
who tangoed with a Toyota
and lost.

The stench that wafts through the streets could easily strip paint
but the locals don’t seem to mind.
meandering through their mundane Mondays
like maggots in goose step
feeding upon the entrails of the mangled carcass.

Soon, their bellies full, gorged on wealth forged from blood, sweat and tears
of the less fortunate, they will pupate.
and in a frenzy of greed, gluttony and lust, they will burst
from their cocoons, and ****, eat, and relish in their wealth until they die.

Thus is the cycle of the city.
a cancerous growth, a festering boil, an affront in the eyes of the lord.
this grey-on-grey urban tragedy taints the land and traps us all.
no one ever really escapes.

as their corpses lie in rot and ruin amongst the filth and viscera,
the newest generation of eggs begin to hatch,
and the cycle begins anew.

Skyscrapers jut towards the heavens
middle fingers to Mother Nature
or sun-bleached white ribs of some poor beast
who tangoed with a toyota
and lost.

The stench that wafts through the streets could easily strip paint
but the locals don't seem to mind.
They march through their mundane Mondays
like maggots in goose-step.
The cacophony of their carrion communion is grisly and deafening.

Garish billboards burn
obscene advertisements onto assaulted retinas.
Street salesmen descend upon naive tourists
like vultures after fresh meat.

Policemen **** and pillage
what they were sworn to protect and serve,
and the Mayor's fungal tendrils
reach deep into the criminal underbelly of his city.

The voracious human hunger for wealth
knows no boundaries.
The grey-on-grey urban tragedy that is this concrete corpse
is always changing. Growing. Advancing.
however, it is not without waste.

Abandoned asphalt arteries stretch as far as the eye can see.
Somewhere, in a derelict parking lot, a flower is blooming.

We may spit in the face of Mother Nature
with every tree we cut and river we dam,
but soon she will be the one laughing
over our shattered
concrete
corpses.

All through the purple grass the toads sung a merry tune.
For this night alone, my enemies were to be hewn.
So through the starry night, for you I could swoon.
All of this by the light of the deep orange moon.

It was in the purple fields that we tangoed through the night.
The poison clawed mice never giving up the fight.
They danced along my spine until the morning light.
Their blood red eyes bearing witness to my sacrificial rite.

Even though you left me in the fields where we romanced,
Even with the enemies with which I have danced,
That look in your eyes will always have me entranced.
For you, their attack I had willingly chanced.

But now here I stand, bleeding and without you.
For with my own sword they have run me through.
Don't be sad, I fear my end is overdue.
But hear my final words, and follow them through.

Over the blue mountains and across the yellow sea,
In the purple fields, below the purple tree.
When my bones rest here, my soul shall be free.
Go on to love another, as much as you once loved me.

There was a man come wandering
by with silver heels and loudly.
It was a Sunday and he asked me
to dance.  We tangoed through
close and warm.

Then it was a Wednesday warm
to touch you and I did.
You ran in the rain like a cat.
I called but the dull thud of
my tears fell only alone.

There love stretched
taut to crumble. And the heat
of my life felt the scald and
stars were unseen..

Light hid in drains and
you were in the rain gone.
I see you wet and reach
toward me. Dreams don't

die and I wrap the night
In paper sliced so thin

you can see thru my veins
where I have travelled

And alone.


Caroline Shank

I'm writing this to you at the end of our first day, my legs screaming obscenities at me after all the so-called adventure
And I could tell you about how the dirt and sharp rocks wore out the soles of my feet
How we hiked for six hours off the path and I almost started crying by the fourth
How the trail we 'created' felt like descending into an abyss and crawling back out again
How the wind battered us with sand and the ocean burned our scratched calves

But baby, you should've seen the sky
The way it moved and swelled and changed
First periwinkle fading into a white horizon and hitting the sapphire sea
Then the setting sun that bathed canyons in gold and heat
Until the last rays blended into a clash of purple, pink, and orange

And when the day came to a close, the heavens opened like you wouldn't believe
The night was a pitch-black canvas, torn open by meteors that fell forever in a few seconds
While the stars pricked holes in the swirling shape of the Milky Way
Darling, I swear they danced for us
They twirled and waltzed and tangoed better than we ever could
And through all the splendor, the only thing I kept spending my shooting-star wishes on was you

i am
seen
clear through
yet never sure
-ever torn-
by what i see
in you

sliver in my eye
grow grow
into clearcut forest taken from the sky

observe
you can see all of me

i am bark turned
inside-out
my core yours

see me seen

and you?
the cool side of a moon
spooning the abyss after tangoed tryst

we are cosmoses
apart

there will never be a day when
you will say
that's the day i knew
i would always love you

because

othering opacity foreverfizz

Remember when we first Tangoed?
Remember those summer nights where we'd FaceTime till sunrise?
Remember that night we poured our hearts to each other?
Remember when you asked me to wear your jersey?
Remember our first date?
Remember our first kiss?
Remember when our love was stronger than no other?
What happened?
-K.L.

What the hell has happened to the adverts on our TV screens?
When Our teeth shined with Sensodine, Colgate and Mccleans
Kinder made surprising eggs and Heinz Meanz tinned Baked Beans
Fairy Liquid lasted longer, houses cleaned with Mr Sheens
Daz Automatic, Surf and Ariel washed clothes in our machines
Which brings me to that buff hunky guy washing Levi jeans

Winalot and Pedagree where good food for our dogs
Robinson's Jam old icon was mascot Golly wogs
Fudge fingers where just enough to give our kids a treat
Not even a Black Hole could eat three Shredded Wheat
Gillette was the best shave, that a man could get
Happiness was achieved, with a cigar called Hamlet
Surfing was the mark of a man, the fragrance of Old Spice
Brut had an unbeatable smell even Henry Cooper smelt quite nice
You know when where Tangoed when your slapped in the chop
Magic begun when we heard the fun of Snap Crackle and Pop
"Hey I'd love a Babycham" in that cool smooth cocktail pub
Biscuits had a lot of chocolate when you joined their Club
The Honey Monster told his mummy to tell us about the Honey
Taking it easy with a Caramel from that **** Cadburys Bunny
Leonard Rossiter and Joan Collins had Cinzano on a plane
The secret lemonade drinker sneaked downstairs for R Whites again
If you know what's good for you, you would eat Weetabix
Chimpanzees did all kinds things for the taste of PG tips
Turkish Delight had eastern promise her hair he had to stroke
You where in love for the very first time when you drank a Coke
If you had a Mars a day we where helped to work, rest and play
A secret agent risked everything because the lady loved Milk Tray

The quest of a silent messenger in case you had forgot
Seeking for the timeless taste of the larger of Lamot
Carling had the three in one with the cowboy in the west
From love songs to soap powder Black Label was the best
Searching for Fly Fishing  J R Hartley got downhearted
Good old Yellow Pages is where he should have started
Garath Hunt had Nescafe he shook the coffee bean
With Una Stubbs and Sarah Green and even Diane Keen
The cute Kid with the glasses he was strong and tough
The Milky Bars are on him, the best where good enough

What do we get on our screens in our modern time
All of the ads are terrible their broadcast is a crime
All you are providing is the same old ******* grime
Ramming the same thing down our throat like an hourly chime
Its the same as TV programming there's nothing that is prime
With all the cheap reality shows there boring and just slime

What is it with the crap Go Compare to many in this set
The PPI's and Clear Score there all a public social threat
Too many online Bingo sites it seems they took all they could get
All these loans and gambling its no wonder people are in debt

Cillit Bang it sounded good when used by Barry Scott
Boy that stuff can't really work cos he had a ****** lot
I don't think it was all that good and not so very hot
If its in the cheep shop I may give it a small shot

The Gtech cordless vacuum it simply has no class
With its 40 minuet run time I think id rather pass
It doesn't seem that powerful I know this may seem harsh
Break free from the Gtech Air Ram and ram it up your ****

And all those crap insurance ads I really do despair
Especially that ******* opera singer singing Go Compare
With his stupid ****** false moustache, Tuxedo and black hair
Get rid of this obnoxious guy and nobody cares where

All those ****** ******* adverts they have on nowadays
nothing like the larger ads or the man with the milk trays.
all you get is insurance ads none of which that pays
or loans that you don't ******* want or any of their strays

Get rid of all these ****** ads put them on the shelf
I don't mean to appear arrogant, I could do better myself
Stop melting our minds, we cant shield our minds in stealth
To many poor folks sat at home with messed up mental health
All you execs make millions your only interested in wealth
And reinstate some proper ads stop thinking of yourself

So bring back all the old ads they where more amusing
Inventive and informative more things for the choosing
Not like they are today all boring, some confusing
Monotonous and self obsessed you only end up snoozing
Always going with the flow with all the same ads cruising
Come on all you ad execs its the public that your losing

She watched as
starlight tangoed with
earl gray dawn, and
pink cotton clouds
dripped
down the horizon line.
The crickets trembled,
kissed the dewy blades
of grass, then
departed, underground, or
into the oak trees.
And she folded her bare
knees toward her chest,
clutched them
tightly while a sun-
flower scented breeze
tickled the hairs on her arm.
The pale moon faded
into azure morning and
each constellation
evaporated into
wispy white clouds.
So she gathered her
belongings, but left
the letter –
it’s buried there,
beneath the sprawling
autumn foliage,
waiting
for you to resurrect it.

I was never fond of the Tango,
the dance that was never through.
But even so, I tangoed,
I tangoed with you.

Passion fuels our every step
red hot anger, crimson lust.
Everything in between
is scattered in our dust.

I wish you'd give me a signal
for I am sick of all the lies.
What are you trying to tell me
with your tired, angry eyes?

I can't see clearly when I look at you,
my vision's blurred from all the tears,
But as we dance this tango,
I forget the pain from all the years.

I was never fond of the Tango,
the dance that was never through.
But it takes two to tango
so I’ll tango with you.

I recall and rewind to the exact moment we stumbled into each other
his smile so luring and bright
while my face glowed intensely
the most deepest shade of red
my heart tangoed in my chest
begging to unite with the unknown of his
my pulse raced
my frown quickly expelled
exposing my vulnerability
and he knew
he relished in my fascination in him
playing maps around my waist
naming me beautiful names
the way only queens were summoned
he spoke intelligently
forcing me to fall under his spells
but never did he wish to capture my soul
or discover the depths of my mind
I was his muse
his playing piece in a game of chess
and he adored every second
until
I made a move
giving me this look of great disdain
he miserably replied
“I just don’t like you back."

there was a time when you hold me tight,
i healed your hint of the essence.

there was a time my head was drought with the thought of you,
intoxicatingly, i couldn't remember my name.

there was a time
we tangoed this cursed dark labyrinth with its tight rope,
but baby we lost our balance.

there was a time when i fought my own demon just for you,
but it is never enough.

there was a time when our battlefield rhymed with tears and blood,
until you left me wounded.

there was a time when i used to be your single-floor home,
until you traded me with a bigger, pretty house on the market.

there was a time when we were both madly in love,
until one of us lost our mind.

there was a time when you lit me like your first cigarette,
lingeringly and without hesitation, you dropped me to the ground.

and there will be a time you are going to miss our darling life,
but in the flicker of time, i will be happier on my own.
Because baby, i am the best muse you could ever have.

His love confuses me,
it came on fast
and hit me hard
so that I'm left spinning.
He took me in his arms
and practiced Russian
by whispering sweet nothings
until all hours of the morning,
until his lips could do nothing
but kiss mine.
He took me dancing,
and tangoed with me
until dusk,
until his hips could do nothing
but dig into mine.
He loved me over time,
in ebbs and flows
like the sea loves the sand,
until he couldn't help
but fall into my tide.
And now he's away,
he'll always be "away",
today Bloomington,
tomorrow Berlin.
And now I'm aching,
I'll always be aching,
today for Indiana,
tomorrow for Germany.

To taste a tangerine dream
You must sit silent.
You must sit and listen
as the sun sets golden-
Pink flickers licking at the surface of the sea,
As it moves,
In time with the moon and his rising
And falling to the curve of the earth.

To see peace you must sit still.
You must feel deep and listen
To gravity's beck and call.
Watch while we twirl
And let go with the flow of it all,
Feel how slow we move
Waltzing circles round the sun.

Here you will find me -
Find us all.
If only you stop for a second,
To taste the awe of it all.

the soul sometimes gets
drifted into a soulbank
gets piled on top
of other drifted souls
awaiting the next
dance with
what they love
to be embraced by the
universe and
waltzed or
tangoed or
salsa’d
into Love

patience is faith and
faith is trust in
the drift


c. 2107 Roberta Compton Rainwater

The only way you knew how to dance
Was to sway your hips haphazardly
Off beat Back and forth Side to side
to hazy savage glaringly ***** music
I would sit in the passenger seat and watch
With the car door ajar and the
Seatbelt light blinking
The only way I knew how to dance was to close my eyes and visualize the
Gospel of the orange and pink and cloud paint splatters
And so we were in perfect synchronization
Like symphonic harmony
My eyes closed but yours wide wide open
Not a moment of hesitation between one second of action to the next
Except when it came to opening my eyes
I would watch you succumb to your assimilated actions
And we would welcome
The droplets of a newborn rain storm attaching to our clothed backs and bare shoulders
Laden across a field
We were not allowed to be on this field they had football practice
but we were anyways
The air was of a room temperature and caressed our fingertips
How did we manage to articulate to each other
What it feels like to be enveloped
in reality’s arms
Your hair was almost the
Color of mine but your skin was usually a lot
Paler
But in the summer it would turn bronze
When you held up your hand and against
The cotton candy sky you looked like
A shiny brass statue of a Greek god
We thought we were Zeus and Hera but
Were Sisyphus and Merope
Bare legs meant mosquito bites but
They drew satirical constellations across our calves
Like a sadist reminder of irony
We existed in perfect destruction because
The birds had left but
The moon had stayed
I felt my ragged fingernails frighteningly grasping at
The remnants of a pathetic twilight
I don’t think I can ever look you in the eye again
And then I blinked just once and
The sky had turned indigo and the chill of cicadas and summer night set in
And I was intrinsically alone with no ***** music and swaying hips and summertime lies
Deceit had evaded me but it surrendered to you
And with your presence left my respect
This celestial ship will carry our mundane bodies back to shore
But I tangoed for one
And put on my seatbelt and closed the car door