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 Feb 2012 CG Abenis
David Beltran
For an hour on my drive to school at night,
When the music and headlights come on,
For that hour I'm a rock star.
If you stop and stare even better,
and I'd congratulate you because you are my audience.
I'm the drummer, singer, bassist, piano player and guitarist,
Hell I'm even the guy playing with lights back stage.

But as soon as I park and get out of my car,
I'm not a singer, I'm not a musician and
I'm certainly tone deaf.
Yeah I'm a resenting has been and ex-husband,
I don't eat, sleep or **** but writing is what keeps me sober these days.
Singing is what keeps my mind off the time,
and music what keeps me off the lines.

I used to give out ratings.
Now I keep the words to myself
and if my opinion is asked of me,
I just give them the simple half.
Let them figure out what's missing,
the way I found out what I was needing.

I may not make a mill next year,
or be able to pay the bills this month.
But I will be recognized for the things that are
put on billboards and on your bedroom walls.
I will be known for the message you wear everyday,
and for giving a face to the girl that sings in the dark on stage
and plays in your car all day.

But for just this hour I'm just a simple rock star.
Would like to receive feedback and critique, thank you.
 Feb 2012 CG Abenis
JA Doetsch
We will walk through the Cherry blossoms
in Japan, hand in hand, meandering through
the falling petals.  Our winding path
will weave through the countryside  with
no goal in sight.  We will stop in front of a
particularly beautiful tree, whose branches
are just beginning to look naked.

I will look at you, brush a stray blossom
from your hair...and whisper

           Aishiteru
               .                                                                ­                   
                   .                                                                ­                
                     .   .                                                                ­            
                               .                                                                ­          
                                     .                                                                ­        
                             We trek the Arctic circle and witness
                             the absolute beauty of the Aurora Borealis.                       
                             We're be bundled tightly in our parkas,                                     
                    ­         but we are still be able to feel eachother's                                   
                  ­           warmth.  We laugh as we throw snowballs.
                             We lie in the snow and make angels.                                          
               ­              Well...they'll start out as angels, but in the                                 
                            ­ end, they'll just look like snow that two people                          
                             have just rolled around in.                                                  
           ­                                                                 ­                      
                                              We can't help it.  As we embrace,                             
                           ­                   I whisper
                                                     Negligevapse                                                    
­                                                         .                                          
                     ­                                     .                           ­             
                                                          .     ­                                   
                                                         .                                          
                     ­                                   .                             ­             
                                                     .                                            
                   ­                              .                                                  
             ­                              .                                                        
       ­                                                                 ­                          
         We stroll the beaches of Hawaii, refreshing ocean                                    
         breezes cool us.  I picked you a flower,
         which you now wear in your hair.  Your cinnamon                               
         brown skin offsets your beautiful white smile.                                       
         We run through the breaking waves, our feet                                                
         leaving ephemeral indentations that are as                                             
         fleeting as our cares.  We fall over into                                                     
       ­  the surf and let the ocean wash over us.                                                     
        ­                                                                 ­                         
              I kiss your nose and tell you                                                          
   ­                   Aloha wau ia oi                                                               ­             
                              .                    ­                                                
                ­                  .                                      In China, we race eachother along   
                                     .                               .   the Great Wall to see who can get 
                                        .                   ­        .    to the end first.  We both end up   
                                           .                     .       dragging eachother across the         
                                             .               .           finish line...which happens to be      
                                                 .   .   .               a few hundred feet away.          
                                                 ­                        The locals shake their                
                                           ­                              heads disaprovingly, as we stifle      
                                                    ­                     a giggle.  I lean in and remind you  
                                                           ­                                       
                         ­                                                   Wo ai ni..                    
                                                             .  .                      .            
                         ­                                 .       .                     .          
                                                       .            .                   .          
                                                     .               .                 .            
                                                   .                  .   .   .   .  .            
                                                 .                                                
               ­                In Soviet Russia, girl kiss you                                              
               ­                and I gladly let her, for she                                               
              ­                 and I have had one too many shots                                 
                          ­     of *****.  Our faces are rosy and                                       
                      ­         we lean into each other as our feet                                     
                       ­        make hard noises on the cobblestone                                       
              ­                 streets.  Saint Basil's Cathedral                                          
             ­                  looms over us, as our lips dance                                           
                ­               a familiar dance.                                                           ­       
                                                                ­                                  
                              ­            Ya tebya liubliu                                                        
 ­                                                .                                                
                                                 .                                                
            .  .  .  .                          .               ­                                   
         .             .                      .                                         ­           
       .                .                   .                                                      
      .                    .  .  .  .  .  .                                                 ­       
    .                                                           ­                                   
We gaze at the Taj Mahal, a building                                                         ­   
built for a man's true love. I would                                                            ­      
build you a city.  we take in the                                                              ­          
mighty majesty of Everest.  I tell                                                             ­                
you I'd climb it for you.  You tell                                                             ­              
me to stop being silly, and say
you'd get bored waiting for me.
I give you a back rub instead.                                            

  Hum Tumhe Pyar Karte hae 
                                                            ­             We travel the dutch  countryside
                                              ­                            and kick off our wooden shoes to
                   .                                          ­            watch the tulips blooming.
                       .                                            .     I dedicate an entire field to you.
                          .                                 ­    .         You blush.
                              .                           ­   .         we fall asleep in front of a windmill,
                                 .     .                  .          watching the shapes of the clouds pass
                                         .      .      .             over us. I whisper in your ear
                                                             ­                                                                 ­      
                                                                ­       Ik hou van jou
                                                             ­             .                        
                                                                ­         .                          
                                     ­                                  .                            
                                   ­                                  .                              
                                 ­                                  .                                
                               ­                                  .                                  
                             ­            .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .                                           ­ 
    France has never been as beautiful as                                                               ­   
    it is now that you're here.  We skirt                                                            ­         
    the cities and explore the countryside,                                                     ­           
    Endless fields and clear skies bring                                                            ­     
    out our inner children, and spend the day
    romping and rolling until our clothes                                                          ­  
    are stained and our muscles ache.  I                                                         ­             
    lay beside you, panting.  In between                                                          ­       
    breaths, I manage to impart                                                           ­                
                                                ­                                                            
    ­                                                                 ­                                       
               Je t'aime                                                           ­                                 
                   .                                                                ­                        
                    .                                           ­                                             
                   ­   .                                                             ­                         
                        .              ­                                                                 ­     
                          .  .  .    .    .       .          .                                                    
                                                                ­                                            
                    ­                                            We explore Roman ruins and concoct      
                                                   ­             our own love story had we been born      
                                                      ­          in the Ancient city.  I would have        
                                                    ­            been a mighty General, who saved      
                                                     ­           you from a terrible dicator.  You            
                                       ­                         tell me to stop quoting Gladiator.       
                                               ­                 We share a kiss under the shadow           
                                               ­                 of the colleseum.  I brush your         
                                                   ­             hair from your face...                       
                                  ­                                                                 ­       
                                                         ­                  Ti Amo                              
                                                                ­               .                          
                                                                ­                                          
                      ­                                                        .        ­                    
                                            ­                                                              
  ­                                                                 ­        .                              
                                                                ­                                          
                      ­                                                                 ­                   
                                             ­                           .                                  
  ­                                                                 ­                                       
                         ­                                                                 ­                
                                                ­                    .                                      
     ­                                                                 ­                                    
                            ­                           You smile and reply                                   
                        ­                                                                 ­                 
                                               ­             I love you, too
Feeling hopelessly romantic today.
 Feb 2012 CG Abenis
Mark Lecuona
The sky is beautiful tonight
But not as beautiful as you
The moon has vanquished the stars
But you brought them back to life
They have gathered together
Moving closer to be by your side
But they will slowly fade away
Like love washed away by the tide
Yes the sky looks beautiful tonight
But it remains jealous of you
Because nature is not as wonderful
As a smile that lights the coming dawn*



Copyright 2011. All Rights Reserved. Mark Lecuona
 Feb 2012 CG Abenis
Odi
Stu-stu-stuttering
Under those beautiful shadows
Near edgar street
Halloween, light lamps
pumpkins
Sh-sh-shaking hands
You looked so
broken
shattered

"You haven't been yourself lately."
"Well maybe I have."
"No no no this isn't you."
"Maybe it is, maybe im just sick of pretending."
-"Have you been eating?
When's the last time you had a goodnight's sleep?"
"Why does it matter..."

I wanted to remember how the light illuminated your cheekbones
But made those shadows under your eyes darker
They seemed to taunt your face
Dancing around producing fearful images
I was surprised you were still awake
What a beautiful mess you looked...
What a beautiful mess you looked like

"Y-you-you think the world is a beautiful place dont you?"
"I think It can be." You looked haunted.
"Yeah, for those who sleep."
465

I heard a Fly buzz—when I died—
The Stillness in the Room
Was like the Stillness in the Air—
Between the Heaves of Storm—

The Eyes around—had wrung them dry—
And Breaths were gathering firm
For that last Onset—when the King
Be witnessed—in the Room—

I willed my Keepsakes—Signed away
What portion of me be
Assignable—and then it was
There interposed a Fly—

With Blue—uncertain stumbling Buzz—
Between the light—and me—
And then the Windows failed—and then
I could not see to see—
 Feb 2012 CG Abenis
Mark Lecuona
Do you believe we are brain dead
Shallow Suburbanites with no street cred
Incapable of an original thought
Because we have all been bought?
While you with all of your spare time
Are able to protest in rhyme
Tempting our flock
And moving the hands on the clock
Do you think we are cold and callous
Living out here in our “palace”
Unfeeling and uncaring
Never thinking or sharing
Our supposed ill-gotten wealth
Acquired with sinister stealth
To be used to acquire more
While others face a locked door
But it is us that make it easy for you
Because it is all you think to do
Your mind is free to choose
With no constraints, you cannot lose
Your heroes are on the road
Howling about their load
Riding further with vocal riffs
Pretending you have many gifts
Experimenting with freedom of thought
Glorifying yourselves all for naught
Living with nothing to lose or gain
You are able to explore your brain
But how easy it must be for you
With no one to answer to
No small child to care about
You just existed without any doubt
About your pioneering ways of living
But it was about taking not giving
As you smugly changed our world
Our morals to be forever hurled
Into a corner to be abused
Painted as something of a ruse
To deprive you of your extremism
Or able to live in your Nihilism
While you bellow and memorize
The words of others more wise
So you take and take
And then regurgitate
Their thoughts with a twist
Trying to give us a gist
Of your genius in poetry
But you only master sophistry
As you speak in starts and stops
Attempting to fool us flops
By orchestrating obfuscation
You captured the eye of the nation
You live in self-congratulatory mode
While forever referring back to the road
A trip of useless hedonistic eruption
Masquerading as true revelation
And what did you reveal?
Something that you should conceal
A high-brow conceit steeped in intellectual
Pretension ultimately altogether ineffectual
In changing the world in your image
Playing God with words you scrimmage
With the minds of lost children
Left disillusioned and barren
Because they bought into your delusions
Not knowing you saw them as intrusions
Into your bubble of pretended insight
So you turned their day into night
They ran to the West Coast
But found nothing but a ghost
Of an enlightened age
With few people quite sage
But they were not fed or awakened
Only left on the street forsaken
While you accept the plaudits
Of other frauds matching wits
With one another for what?
Just so they could mentally strut
All about the place
Pretending to care just in case
They were called on their addictions
So they fought against contradictions
In the way they actually lived their life
And the caring they projected about strife
We who must care for our offspring
With no time for free living
Exist wondering about your fame
When it seems it was so much a game
About how much you could consume
And make us to be the loon
Because you knew of the conspiracy
While we believed any theory
Of a loving God and benevolent big brother
Because we are stupid, incapable of reading the weather
Of changing times and mores
You keep us down with your stories
Of not being controlled
By those who you say stole
The truth from all of us
And threw us under the bus
Well, we are not impressed
So you can remain undressed
As the Emperor who sees only himself
And believes in his own wealth
Of mind and enlightenment
Publishing only excrement
Useless to the poor
What else do you have in store?
We await, breath baited
Your words of how you hated
Society and its norms
Your people and their scorns
Will once again attack
The suburban brat pack
So we work each day
And in the morning pray
That our efforts are not useless
To those who do not live like us
With our many blessings
We give our offerings
Freely and with joy
Each girl and boy
To transfer that which God gave
Because that is how we are taught to behave*


Copyright 2010. All Rights Reserve. Mark Lecuona
Kind of a rant from a wannabe hippy about being put down because I live in a suburb.....
 Feb 2012 CG Abenis
TinaMarie
Lifted by your Love
     I was able to believe
          To feel, and to Value
     To know I am Worthy.

Freed by your Touch
     I Surrendered
          Completely,  Wholly
     To you Only.

You are a Blessing...


Stifled by your Past
     I can't Reach you
          Hold you,  Convince you
     To understand.

Rejected by your Fear
     I must watch you go
          Abandon it,  All,  Everything
     To Live Alone.

Our Love is Cursed...


Possessed by your Soul
    I am eternally
          At your command
     Awaiting your Call.

Tormented by your Spirit
     I cannot escape
          I cannot move Past
     Our Love.

For you are my Blessed Curse.


© Tina Thompson
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