Poetry
• In Memory of Philomene Long - HIllary
Kaye
• The Decider - Pano
Douvos
• The Final Phantasmagoria -
Rebecca LaRue
• Up jumped the Devil -
Rex Butters
• Victory - Douglas
Eisenstark
• Got somethin' for you -
Jim Smith
• Haiku - Hal
Bogotch
In Memory of Philomene
Long
By HIllary
Kaye
holy
mother
church of
god
speaks through
her
and the blood of
christ
and the blood of
children
speak through
her
holy
mother
church of ocean, sky and birds
speaks through
her
speaks through
her
and she having once taken the hand of
christ
has now gone free
she asked and did receive
the
blood of
christ
and the
knowing
and the blood of
children
and the
knowing
and the blood of
vampires
sucking the earth dry with
greed
these things she
saw
these things she
knew
and carried like the cross she wore
around her neck
these things she sang
about
in a voice that
carried
in a fallen beautiful
world
------
The
Decider
By Pano
Douvos
Creeping capitalism
creeps
Picking up momentum
tum
Everything Down the USA
tubes
OK once OK, now ok not
ok
Now it’s A o K...courtesy of the
DOD
Department of Double-Talk Now in
command
DOD mimics the
“Decider”
Hidden Behind
curtains of Deceit
There’s slippery
talk of of surge; Photos censored
Of our men
facing Destruction and Death
On the Hot IRAQI
sands
All for the glory of our
“Homeland”
Formerly the American
Nation
The Department of Double-Talk
prattles
Stops just short of
Referring
To our {Nazi}
Fatherland
Maybe we’ll get it on the
news at 11
In an update by Der Fuhrer the
“Decider”
-------
The
Final
Phantasmagoria
By
Rebecca LaRue
In the
end
They will say that our last
days
Were those fantastic flickering
lights
But we will also
remember-
the sickness of our
breathe.
Where are the truly gallant men of
modern society?
The last of whom will lean
in
And sacrifice their claim to
nothingness
By telling
you…
“Lean in
closer
Let me whisper to you a
lesson~
Long forgot~ even by
myself.”
“Listen~ young
person
For I am elder and folly speaking
regrets
That I might still have one last shot
@ righteousness
I confess this to
you.”
“It was not easy but when I
was your age…
And I suppose now,
still
In some compartment of my
mind
For I feel I’ve long, gone, given
away my heart.”
“Ah, but when I
was young~
I was full of life, belief, honor
and bravado.
The latter which became my
demise~
I knew a few
men~
Maybe no more than one could count on
their hands…
a few who truly inspired
me.
And no it wasn’t the moron
For his mastering of
murder
Nor the
outlaw
for his commitments to crime and
rebellion.
But it
WAS
The simple few over a sip of brew and
wit
Who sat spilling their truths as salient
as their own saliva.
Their little gems they
left to be protected
In the ears of whom they
whispered~
And of whom actually
heard…
This my child they say is the
last of the fantastic flickering
lights!
-------
Up
jumped the Devil
breeze in/browse
around
bookstore
excursion
eye corner twinge alerts and
freezes
me
no-
it’s
him
I flash/past newspaper
picture
his goofy gothic
affectation
arch stagey noh-play
extreme
eyebrows styled to middle point
peak
comb-over black dye pixie
bang
haircut
thick sideburns
only the reptillian empty
eye intensity
seemed
serious
the article described the former
head
of psychological warfare in Viet Nam,
now head
of a Satanic church faction,
Presidio day care
children’s
nightmares, confused accusations,
strange
stories of candle lit blood
sacrifice,
molestation and purple triangles,
accurate
descriptions of his quarters,
abruptly transferred,
he watches a missile
silo in Arkansas, forgotten,
until,
he seems wired, but shorting
out
samples Black Magic and Satanist
books
an awestruck devotee stammers
praise
“I’ve been working on
the crystal balls
I’ve made
three
I can’t quite get them to
work.”
his idol’s eyes
glint
his smile looks
clammy
“yes, yes,
yes”
hiss
rises
“I’ve been gone,” he
says from far away
“you know, I was
head of psychological warfare
in Viet
Nam...”
“Wait’ll I tell
my wife I ran into you,”
says the
little man
“Happy Halloween,”
the ex-officer sneers
his lips like
stretched slugs
the little man rushes out to
dry leaf sidewalk
a dead shade lady
shaded
black hair in her
face
hovers
wordlessly
his
familiar
I aisle squeeze
by
“excuse me,” I
say
“of course,” he hisses,
immune to prosecution
looks beyond me/bends
to search
out odd
spells
– Rex
Butters
-------
Victory
sweet
softens
the bitter
Chinese
saying:
100 years, revenge, not too
late.
French: a
dish
Best served
cold
Injuries are revenged, crimes
avenged
money:
the
emotion of capitalism
She who
laughs...
English
saying:
Living well is the best
revenge
–Douglas
Eisenstark
-------
Got
somethin’ for you
By Jim
Smith
HEY,
YOU!
Don’t turn the
page
Take a look at these
poems
I mean, really look at
them!
We’re talking about
life
and
death
and maybe a little love and/or
sex.
you say you’re
married?
It don’t make no
difference
in the land of
poetry.
Poetry is what Venice is all
about
It ain’t the only
thing,
but it’s the fundamental
thing.
Man, you’re missin’
out
if you don’t know a good
poem.
This is what makes us
human
this is what makes us sentient
beings
A good poem can blow the top of
your
head
OFF
expand
your consciousness
yeah!
Want
to know the meaning of life?
The secret of
the universe?
It’s all right here,
dude.
Don’t turn the
page.
-------
HAIKU
Inner
flower folds
pearblossom Georgia tinted
nectar slakes my thirst.
–Hal Bogotch
Posted: Mon - October 1, 2007 at 07:58 PM