4X6 inches
of perfection on a screen
a hint of tortured possibilities
carried in the pocket
of a life built
through blinders and
the most beautiful denial

4X6 inches
of hope undeniable
the foundation of dreams
dragging rough
through cascading walls
of a substandard fairytale
that twisted joy unhappy

4X6 inches
of a smile through a hurricane
bleeding pain through evaporating tears
a reality forged through time uncountable
landing in the rays truth created
when love proved
the existence of fate

4X6 inches*
of peace over pain
a wand in magical medicinals
crashing through solitary anguish
with eyes piercing armor
weaved in passive aggression
leading the lost home

There should be wings of a hundred birds
to churn this scorch with breeze
to dry sweat
shade glare
to soothe the ache
of a post-noon day

There should be varied
and a thousand greens
with all betweens
of innumerable trees
till the blue of sky
blends their deference

And the river heaves its way along
ever on
eternal mission of earth
and...

...Heaven-- sure misses so much some days

Cool remote
Transcended as it be
Replete with rains
and relief of clouds
The Angelus in the distance....
with its affluent affinity for air

Revelers leave their party debris
for those making sure
not a sign is left....
We sort and fold, collapse and pack

Somehow between chairs, tables
cans and bottles, assorted trash

They come--

crouch on the levee
wander and stare
aimless amid tall dry weeds
Inhabit a bench, a moment--
Wild
filtering through our fabrication
Wind to dissipate our purpose
Trees invading abandoned fields

“The poor you have with you always”

“I'm not drunk,”
she drunkenly proclaims
to no one
except maybe….

Leaning over her opened beer
seated on bench adorably painted
with joyful hands

Who fondly held or hoped for her?
Before....
days of dirt troweled a shadow
in the sweat between her *******
Filthy tank that barely covers
derelict denial

How they find themselves established
as we make to leave
WE, of our homes and cars and jobs
and plans of escape

They--

of always

Begin with
something
broken—

a bone,
a heart,
a home—

collect
the pieces
carefully

and work
them over

over time

tumble and polish
tumble and polish

make the pain shine.

Nature has divine qualities
Beyond national divides
So heart enfold immortal love
Where one sees mountain dance and move

In this do love has no color
Skin pigment shouldn't be honor
For all bears reddish clot
As we tread on earth path

So soil of time embraces our body
As the enlived soul transpired to the sky
All become one in a starky heaven
Where no divide and rule leaven

Only unending peace it brings
Shrinking hearts with joy and unending smiles
As they commune in glows of divine instinct
For the greatest commandment is love

As bird fly above
So cloud of hate gives love as chance
Embracing one with will of divine
So our earth become an undying paradise

written by
Martin Ijir

An evening breeze
.....blows by......you obey,
........and move your lithe body
you sway left.... right...up and down

giving in to the blowing whispers,
...the breath of fire...that starts the dance
your pride of red-yellow-orange,
..........rises.........then falls......
do you know
that you brighten, dim, and glow?
dilating the pupils, rousing the mind even more...
your changing colors, your fiery, wavy movements
blind...and hypnotize.........bringing back to life
dormant desires...of one, entranced...captivated...
........i am lured..........i am tempted...
..................i am here...to dance with you,...
........enfold me...while you're ablaze......
....................singe me......i'd take the heat,
            ...........for....i am your,
                              ...........moth.......


Sally


Copyright May 6, 2017
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

“YOU’RE JUST LIKE YOUR FATHER!”
screams the judge,
wielding a whiskey and a weaponised Women’s Weekly,
as I flare inside but choose instead to smile meekly.  
Was my Dad the spawn of Jeffrey Dahmer?
Or the bloke who used to watch Kojak, on a Sunday, in pyjamas?
In fairness though, the absence of the villain of this piece,
last seen clubbing in Ibiza with a girl who’s not his niece,
does nothing to lighten this affair.
Especially with his crimes bequeathed to me, his heir.
The charges apparently too ignoble for repentance,
I brace to bear the brunt and bile of sentence.

Her glib-gab gores each guilty glance.
Each chapter claimed by circumstance.
Her words a whip, envenomed lace,
lashed out anew upon my face.
It matters not that he’s elsewhere,
I stand accused for the genes I wear.
I’d serve notice now, demand redress,
if he hadn’t eloped to a vague address.
The urge to silent scream? Repressed.

Repeal rejected, defence disbarred.
Appeal affected, mis-trial marred.
A deafeningly dead deal is on the cards.
I pause perpetually and play the clock,
Until “New Witness!!” echoes around the dock.

Youngest courtroom entrant in our history,
identity unknown and gender still a mystery.
“Oh, look how wonderful this is!” coos the judge.
Now as sticky sweet and seasonal as fudge.
“Of course this cherub must approach the bench,
with the defendant as mouthpiece to represent”.
“Pray tell, sinner, its testimony loud and clear"
*Cue a minor mandate that only I can hear *
A pause. A private parley.
The pup's prose presented without palaver:

“I will grow, just like my father”.