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 Feb 2011
Victor Thorn
last time we spoke in person
you kissed a fogged up bus window
because you were sad.

the day was cold and gray and wet.
we were cold and gray and wet.
the bus had a blowout, there was smoke everywhere,
we pulled over.
everyone freaked out,
but we just sat there.
you were in front of me,
i was behind you,
texting each other, because we couldn't talk in person,
i had decided i was mad at you.
why was i mad, and not sad?
you had decided to make my mistake
of wanting something you just can't have.
why were you sad, and not mad?

the bus pressed onward on three wheels and a doughnut-
a wheel you want to think is there, but isn't.
and when we made it to the restaurant,
i sat alone,
and you sat alone
with friends you kept from inviting me over,
and you left
and they left
and i left.

the bus doughnutted it's way to some ****** play,
i sat on the far left,
you sat on the far right,
and they left,
and you left,
and i left.

we were waiting on something,
so you typed "hey"
and i typed "what"
and you asked me what i thought
and i said there was only one way it could have been worse.
and you asked what
but i didn't answer.

the bus doughtnutted it's way down the twisting, turning, hateful road that leads to my hometown where i can hardly pass a crack in the pavement without a painful memory, like a ****, sprouting up.

it was cold and gray and wet that day;
the bus window was foggy.
you drew a heart and scribbled initials inside.


you kissed a fogged up bus window
because you were sad.

i drew a heart and scribbled initials inside,
of course you couldn't see me
(i was behind you)


i kissed a fogged up bus window
because i was sad
and wished you would turn around.
Copyright February 2011 by Victor Thorn
 Jan 2011
Victor Thorn

I used to be a crocodile.
I knew no risks, no tears, no joy
no excitement to lure me above water,
no work, for it was cut out for me
in the shallows with the small fish,
no heavens to make up for,
no hells to hope for,
no soul to shatter on mid-spring days
when all life is but a nightmare
and clouds are all but
******* on my head,
who granted to desired effect
that siren hoped for,
who sits upon the sandy shore
and whispers sweet songs to me, myself
and repeats me back
the songs I taught her,
"Over and over again,"
she mocks.
How Neptune did churn his waters
to beach a loveless Odysseus here
shall ever be unbeknownst to me.
beeswax I have fixed in my ears,
now I cannot hear my other friends
in the trees.
once I make my flight from this island,
away from the crocodiles,
and starvation,
and sirens,
I will take it out, and
I will hear!
by God! I will hear
and be heard!


No sound.

The siren's lips move;
the water recedes.
the sky grays.
the crocodiles come.
I am drawn near
by her lotus lips that bid me down this tree
I must not dismount.
a second siren in the trees
has been picking out my beeswax.
Two songs.
The reptiles draw ever nearer to
the siren, her song is the loudest.
The second siren sings a song
of warning                              and captivation.

I dismount the tree
to fight back the green menace, and save
the first siren.
I knew these fellows once.
They were my friends,
and now do I slay them.
I see only jaws and red blood now,
and now am I defeated.
The crocodile has taken her as prey,
so familiarly,
for I was a crocodile
Copyright January 2011 by Victor Thorn
 Dec 2010
james arthur casey
Apathy rots...
What will it take
To awaken you
When you've lost faith in dreams?
When sleep is a warm amnesia
Nothing more
Granted, a good thing
For a wise old man
Whose mind is stuffed with memories
A good thing
For a tired old soul
Weighing experience on rusty scales
Whose biggest regret
Is having succumbed to apathy
Realizing, too late,
What a weak enemy it is
How easy it would have been
To conquer and subdue it
To bend it to the will and tame it
It couldn't be all that hard
But you have barely set off on the journey
You can offer advice to no one
Even as you take no advice from anyone
Who convinced you your soul was black?
Do you think there will ever come a day when
You will forgive him
You will forgive her
For lying to you?  

"It is better to have loved and lost
Than to never have loved at all"
What a **** shame William's wisdom
Has been relegated to the status of a Hallmark greeting card  
Where so many people laugh and snicker
So secure in their smug little minds
That they have a ******* clue what it really means
That they don't have a use for this kind of optomistic philosophy
Or the sad sacks who just don't get it
Who can't look past their pain and bitterness
To grasp it's prophecy
Who won't swallow the pill because they just don't want to
Even if they know
(as they all do)
That it's a cure

I'm powerless
I WISH I didn't care
But that's a death wish
I'm a child who loves his toys
I don't want them taken from me
Christmas is around the corner and you know what that means
That's right!
© 2010 by James Arthur Casey
 Oct 2010
christopher crow
"Time flowing in the night"
                           Alfred Lord Tennyson

"Have I dreamt my life, or was it a true one?"
                           Walter Von der Vogelweide

Look for the sleepers on
Their backs, eyes closed,
Their palms upturned to sacrifice
Their dreaming bodies to the night.

Not knowing that even as the
Sun rises wearing a halo of liquid gold,
And as their long dark lashes lazily open,
They are not waking from their dreams.
Outside the hummingbird whirring in
Dizzying aeronautics, and the barn owl
Shutting its fierce yellow eyes

Are dreams too;
All dreams.

The morning routine:
The taste of honey and oats
On the tongue, the orange-yellow
Melon scooped and swallowed hard,
Waking the senses; the bitter coffee,
The slightly burned toast

All dreams.

It was a book delivered to him
By a misty-eyed stranger in rags
Who spoke but a few words barely
Audible and, with a toothless grin,
Hobbled away, though his gait was
Somehow a noble one.
This had happened a few nights ago,
Only the book remained unopened,
He was too tired at the end of the
Day and there was work to do in
The fields and that stubborn tractor
Breaking down each midday.

It was last evening that his curiosity
Got to him and he kicked off his
Work boots and sat with it in the
Reclining chair; he put on his spectacles
And began to read.
He was not a reader much; his time
Reading was mostly spent on the
Good Book, which he found somewhat
Difficult to stay focused on.
But this book was different: he was
Engaged after the first sentence.
There was a stirring in his chest
And he intuited from the incredible
Words that there was something here
That was true.
He read until the moon was high
In the night sky and he turned the
Last page at sometime after midnight,
Falling into an easy sleep in which
He dreamed that he was a Persian
Prince and each night he was told
A story by a beautiful girl. He KNEW
that he was dreaming and he knew
There was such a thing as magic, even
In his mundane world.

Now the sun in a heat haze.
The old chipped weathervane on the
Tin roof of the barn, casting a long
Shadow on the rows of wheat,
Waiting to be harvested.
As he climbed onto the rusty
Tractor he felt a sense of wonder
Present in all these things.
As the old tractor belched and
Caught fire, he had the thought
That if he was still dreaming,
As the book had said, he felt more
Awake than he had ever been in
His life.
 Sep 2010
christopher crow
I came singing
Pushed through the water
I came dumb
Without a man on my side
I drifted downward
From the moon
With every indication
This city would be mine
I came to under the mirrored water
Blue-black wings shining
Feather issuing streams of light
I came in the Mother's toothed ******
My black eyes blessed with insight
I came alone, with brave words
For speeches
And a riddle from the Unicorn
To solve
I came with a curse on my head
And gifts to bestow on mankind
I came with a song etched in stone
I came valiant
I came meek
Crawling backward like a crab
In the sea foam
I came heart broken
Without weeping
Clothed in rags
And precious stone
 Sep 2010
james arthur casey
The first raindrop tapped the top of my bald head
Like a tiny drop of bird ****
I wiped it off, unthinking, and went back to the sheep

The clouds were gray, as gray as I'd ever seen them
A hue that threatened total, complete darkness
Yet still enough sunlight peeking through
To keep me from being discouraged when it began to sprinkle
A few hundred birds
The sheep needed tending
I'd already lost one in the last week
I'd given up on ever finding it
To slaughter, sacrifice and eat
Lucky sheep, lost in the darkness, waiting for the wolves
I was sure it had no feelings and that it could care less
When the sprinkling turned to rain

When the sprinkling turned to rain
I said, "To hell with it"
Turned and left the fields, ******* at the sky
Cursing the Deity that had ruined my day

The woman I called "wife" stood with me at the window
Watching the rain come down in sheets
In torrents
I'd seen worse
But those clouds...
The dirt had long since turned to mud
A thick, deep, gelatinous mud
Quicksand...we stayed in the house
For fear it would **** us down to Sheol

Still a ray of sunshine
Just enough that we could see what we had done

Hours passed, and my sons joined us
Congregated at the window to witness the spectacle
A rarity, a flood, seeping into our home, soaking the stone floor
We lived in the valley
So we'd seen them before
We knew what it was like to get our feet wet
Up to the ankles
But the water kept rising

The water kept rising

We didn't really begin to worry until
Adam's ale reached our bellies
Until we could feel it swirling and tugging
Rising even still, so deep a current
My wife began to cry, unsure what to think
My sons tried hard
To show no fear
All I could think about was the sheep
Each and every one
Floating on the surface of a pond
That hadn't been there yesterday
When they had roamed, mindless, without feeling
Caring only for sustenance

I couldn't help but wonder
The realization terrified me
Struck me with dumb fear
Is this our fate?
A thought too incredible to contemplate
Or entertain for even a moment
Though it had occurred to my wife
My sons' quiet resolve had been shattered by it

I used to love the sound of rain
Falling into puddles outside my door
I don't know why
But it was comforting
Delivering me to deep, dreamless sleep
I'd wake up in the morning completely  
For another day
To work the cursed ground
Resenting my lot
And the God who cursed it

The rainwater reached our necks
The screams were loud and desperate
I recognized each one
Though never so desperate
My wife clung to me like rotten seaweed
Her shrieking brittle and annoying against the side of my head
It hurt my ears and I would have told her to shut up
Had I not understood exactly why she was yelling
Yet I kept my resolve
Barely and likely to break before long
When the water reached my nose
My sons had floated to the other side of the house
I could hear them, too
But I could hardly see them
Because the sunlight
The terrible, cruel sunshine that so selfishly illuminated this ungodly scene
Was beginning to fade into the black clouds
Yesterday I would have closed my eyes to block it out
Burning annoyance
Now I knew it made no difference
A prayer for the rain
To stop
Would fall
On deaf ears

My sons, my pride and joy, my legacy
Both floating, dead, not 10 feet away
Rivulets of water dripped down their upturned faces
So much like sweat from a hard days work
I wanted to wipe them dry and tell them I was sorry
For bringing them into this world
This awful world
This hateful world
I wanted to somehow bring them back to life
Together we would **** the God who would do something like this to us

My wife, the apple of my eye
My helpmate
Friend, lover, the one person I could not live without
Her screams were muted, aquatic glosollolia
I could almost hear the sound of my name
Muffled as water found it's way down her throat
The look in her eyes was chilling
Despair, hope slowly draining away as she drank, unwilling
She begged me to stop it

The rain kept falling
The sunlight vanished
I was in the dark
I felt the world flow in
A new atmosphere to get used to
No more reason to worry about a lost sheep
I'm sure wrathful God had more important things on His Mind

Days later the rain still had not abated
But I was no longer alone
A nation, a race, a species
Floated at the top of an ocean that covered the globe
Corpses bumping into each other, dragged by the undertow
Flushed down by eddies
A macabre soup of carcasses
All but Eight to find and bury us


From the heights of a clear blue sky
In the bright, clean light of the sun
Heaven opens
A dove descends
© 2010 by James Arthur Casey
 Sep 2010
Orion Schwalm
Her face, on it’s own, is just one of thousands past and thousands to come…
But the way she portrays it…leaves a certain residue behind that I am betting she doesn’t want swept up and examined.
That’s where I come in. I’m her janitor/detective. I’d say custodian/investigator but **** political correctness. I'm in charge of gathering the crumbs of the cookies she only half finishes, and I try to determine the consistency of each and every one.
Because she bakes the best ******* cookies this side of the ******* sun, that’s why…Because she puts so much time and effort into perfecting her recipe and because she spends equally as much keeping it a secret. The mystery adds something to the taste.
But she’s overconfident. She hopes too much that everyone will eat every scrap of her devil’s dozen batches of heaven…that they will leave nothing uneaten in their never-ending feast of enlightenment.

Not I.
No Sir! No cookies for this ******* ******’s little ****** mouth. God knows I don’t deserve the sweetness.
So I’m always starving because in MY world, she’s the only cook, the only waitress, and the only ******* farmer left.

…But I still get to be the janitor. I know volunteer work is self-destructive but-  \
But maybe one day she’ll decide…
”Hey, this mindless drone slave…he’s a **** good mindless drone slave,”  and then maybe even later she’ll see I have a mind after all, even though it is always set on the same thing every second of every minute of every hour of every day of every month of every-
well I can’t go that far in writing but I can see that far with my own eyes and I’ll tell ya…years, decades, centuries, millennia, infinity…………..ain’t got **** on this mind o’ mine, cuz the concepts are in there, but then again so is she, so why can’t I have what’s inside of me without having to rip myself apart every night looking for the quickest route to it?
Should I snap the neck clean off and go downward through the rest of this mess?
Or should I cut through the waist right in the middle and spread this search party out?
Or should I just go straight through the left side of my chest, into the hornet’s nest, guns a’ blazing?

But there’s no point in getting it all over with now. I’ve got time…all of it.
Cuz I have seen a glimpse of infinity when I looked through the telescope into the lens of a microscope with a slide inserted holding that one special little crumb I found in the folds of my shirt after the night we slept together, and I think I’ve got just enough of a hunch to say confidently that it is her secret ingredient…infinity.
It’s what everyone wants from her…and it’s the only thing I would take from her…and it’s the difference.

It’s what I see in her face.
It’s her eyes.
It’s her
It’s me.

It’s absolutely…

We love it.
First piece I've done like this.
 Sep 2010
james arthur casey
Beyond the reaches of my memory
Through fading, rotting past
I will climb down the ladder

Her mouth tasted like Doublemint gum
Her favorite kind, I made it mine
How many times? So many times
We traced the shapes of our lips with our tongues
Like a man gone blind, I still know hers well
And the soft, sweet difference
Between the bottom and the top
One at a time, I took them in my mouth
To savor, none in the world
Quite like them
Faces dangerously close
I had to shut my eyes
Or else find my soul
Drowning in the infinite pool
Of her irises
(A baptism half complete)
The reflections in her pupils
Were too much mirrors
I could never bear
Because they showed me worth loving
Because they showed me with wonder
Because they showed me worth saving
Worth healing with love
All the while I knew better
But I saw her with passion
And I saw her with greed
I saw her with wanting
I saw her with need
I saw her as savior
The meaning of life
Never once thinking...

It's time I climbed back up this ladder
Back with this moment I've stolen from her
A diamond I've dug up from the sands of forgetfulness
Hard as the heart she left beating
Hard as the heart she left bleeding
© 2010 by James Arthur Casey
 Sep 2010
james arthur casey
The Law is abolished
Powerless to save
As it ever was
A long lost language etched
Burned into the hard element
Subject to erosion
Replaced by flesh and blood
Speaking the same message
"Mercy, not Sacrifice"

The Word is established
Hated for its Truth
Love your brother
Love yourself
So few can read between the lines:

It is in the effort
That we find communion
With each other
The" judging not lest ye be judged"
That fires the engines
Of life in the world
Ruled by the powers of darkness
Even so, still the world we live in
We are prisoners of darkness

Chained in Plato's cave
Loving the absence
The void is all we've known
All there is to love
For love will be love and
Love will have it's way
Love will find something to love
Thy brothers
Thy self
Sure, unobtainable

Love nonetheless, though darkened, restrained
A teaser
Just enough to make you want more
Just enough to make you believe
You need more

Thomas can't see it
Tommy don't know
Tom's a doubter
Tommy's the man
Thomas knows his ****
Tommy's not sure
Tom hates what he cannot know
Tommy knows nothing
Thomas hates himself
Tommy wants the moon
Tom won't be satisfied until he gets the moon
Tommy doesn't know how
Thomas wants to believe
Tommy finds it very hard
Tom won't believe what he cannot see
Tommy wishes
Thomas needs hope
Tommy wishes it away
Tom won't let himself be happy
Tommy knows fear
Thomas fears happiness
Tommy is terrified of Truth
Tom thinks he might know
Tommy won't accept it
Because the Truth is...
Tommy needs
Thomas needs
Tom needs

The Law is abolished
The chains are broken
All that is left to do
Is give up the shadowplay
Overcome the fear of getting shot in the back
Stare into the Light
Let it blind you
And find bliss in the hot, white glare

Turn around
It's not all that hard

The Word is established
To free the captives
To turn their sights from the inside
To show the way of love
That swirls like a sweet smelling fog in the air around them
To teach them how to cast out devils
Their own demons, Legion
To multiply fish and loaves, to turn nothing into something

To raze the tower of babel that has been raised in your mind
Swirling with ideas and genius
All the while infected with the opinions of others
Held down by meanness and cruelty of those who don't understand
Dragged down by idiots and buffoons you are commanded to love
Crucified by ignorant people who desire to make themselves your enemies
For all this you are asked to love them
For all of this you are expected to love yourself
For all of this, can you believe that redemption is glimpsed?
Is this the price you pay?
Is it worth it?

The chains are broken
The darkness is extinguished
Death has been consumed by death
See the cave for what it is
Your heart
And embrace the Light that illuminated it

Is it worth the price?
Your secret place is sacred
But how can you bring in love
If you don't venture outside to find it?
You will forget what love even is
How can you exercise compassion
If you don't find someone to have compassion for?
How can you forgive if there is no one to forgive?
Yourself? How do you even know HOW to forgive
When you won't forgive yourself?

The Law is abolished
Flesh and blood remain
The essence of the Law now
Shining brightly in your secret place
From behind
© 2010 by James Arthur Casey

— The End —