Poetry is a constant nagging at my soul,
the instant tears that flow upwards,
a drifting fence in my mind,
treasure in my blood,
a coercion in my veins.
Poetry is a surprising flight,
just straight from the inner heart....

© Sylvia Frances Chan

I am the quill that marks
The water-walled history
Of the sea as it may -
A swan, be it, or a black-backed
Gull.

I am the pariah who
Failed to posit his load on
A hill that hung low, like a
Sunless moon, but who can still
hark the dark
Rumbling of repetition.

I am the Quixote who took
On the wind who made the mill
Sob like a bronze leaf in grief,
Seared by the passage of
A sluggish summer.

I am the pariah, the
Quixote, and the historian
Of the rainbow runner.

©LazharBouazzi, August 5, 2017

The course of our lives
Predestined
Free will,
I don't know
We'll never know

The reason for love hanging on
delighting in the white light in the eyes where love shines
I don't know
Maybe we'll never know

The seasons nourish life
Everything spins round and round
Though we feel the whole time
like we're standing still
I don't know
We'll never know

The  woman bending over
lighting a candle
red curtains rippled by the wind
She's the great great
great grandmother
to a generation
she'll never meet
I don't know
We'll never know

Waiting for the executioner
Hoping for immortality
That's all that's left
But I don't know
Maybe we'll never know.

I wanna have lunch with Poe,
at Burger King,

because I'm sure he would appreciate how ghoulish that King in their commercial is

I don't want him to recite verse
while we fill our medium cups with corn syrup nectar--a giant leap
down from laudanum

I do want to ask about the Cask of Amontillado and being walled in slowly, for eternity

for to me that is creepier than all the crimson cream in the Masque of the Red Death

I want to know if he likes the fries--will he dare to dip them in scarlet paste we call catsup

mostly I want to know if he remembers the alley where he was found,

not yet a legend, consumed by consumption and delirium in equal measure

and if there were rodents privileged to hear his last whispered words--or even a gasp

I am buying, Ed, so grab that Whopper with both bony paws and tell me terrible tales, evermore

If  You have been sending
fires, floods, and mind boggling hurricanes
to get our attention -  

This morning I watched  a newscaster  holding
a screaming  baby she had just pulled from
what used to be his  home  and no one  was
coming to get him--

You have my attention.

here can lay the power
if you are receptive,
to let you see the world
from a new perspective

it can be the filling
or icing on the cake,
send you off to peaceful sleep
or keep you wide awake

it can liberate your thoughts
from a recess dark and deep,
make a poor man rich
or help a mute to speak

by your side all the time
like a faithful friend
it can stay with you
to the very end

We must remember
That the U.S. is essentially
An experiment

I fear the dark in another's eyes
As much as I fear the one of the skies
For while the skies can guise and surprise  
The danger lies with a heart rash and mind wise
The ability for lies and the want to take lives