Nobody likes vultures.
Oh, but the eagle…
People ******* love eagles.

The vultures,
they tidy things up for us.
The stench of all that rotting,
decaying road-dead flesh,
all the life crushed beneath our wheels
when we were not paying attention,
when we were moving too fast,
they take care of that.
They clean up a mess.
How nice.

The eagle…
it kills ****.  
And in that we see such nobility and
Regalness.

I propose we change
the symbol
on all our currency,
in our courthouses,
on the t-shirts of so many
Wal-mart shoppers,
to the vulture

and then maybe
act the part

and when someone mentions the eagle…
we can turn our nose up at the thought.

Michael L Sutter

Edgeless days are the hardest
to let pass you by
as you stare at all the pretty things
Just out of sight.

There sits, heavy in atmosphere,
On these days of no ends,
A timelessness
in the most tragic way.

All your toiling
begins to feel useless,
and errors make a mess of this.
Your anger - Instantly boiling

Futile barking.
Damning non-existent gods,,
And then a mocking laughing-
Since you are alone.

Because, of course,
You are alone,
Chained to the room
They're paying you to
|
When the crushing
Endlessness to your day
Could be so easily been remedied
with conversation or, some play

And now those gods
are laughing.
And you wish to be alone
                     From yourself.

the coffee was cold.
a day old.
i heated it.
poured it.
fought through it.

put on a b-film.
something about crap
films made our lives
feel more fulfilling.

we laughed.
exposed every flaw.
we held hands.
snuck
loving glances.

i have to wake up in three
hours, but all i can think
is life is luck,
even for the dumbest of us,
when you tell your
eyes to open up.

Escape
Finally,
From the choking confines,
The cluttered debris
And piled clothes
Of her bedroom

Relief,
Coming only with
The cool night air,
Breathing softly onto her face,
Lifting her brown hair
From her bare shoulders.

Her feet click-clacking like music
On the dark asphalt,
The sky above glowering
Luminescent and orangeish purple
As the moon and the city
Burn silently against
The blanketed backdrop of clouds,
Hovering above
The distant voices and laughter
Across the fields.

She had never imagined
That she could feel like this.
“It’s all in your head,”
(as if anything ever
could be somewhere else)

A goal
That had consumed her whole life,
Working towards it,
Achievements,
Awards,
Satisfaction and success.
And suddenly she was here,
At this very point that she was sure
Her entire life had been leading up to…
Yet that lingering feeling of uncertainty…
What now?

The hollowness,
Enveloping
her
from
all around,
Choking
her
suddenly.

The promises that once
seemed so real
Falling short,
Becoming nothing more than ***** bathrooms,
Loud and late night drunks calling to her
With smelly breath
while she walked past
hurriedly,
Bodies tossing restlessly
in borrowed beds,
She was kept awake
by the mere thought of
Their faces;
A haunting horde of
ten thousand nameless humans
Shuffling past in grimy hallways.

“Am I insane now?”
she demanded an answer,
arms unfurled
up into the darkness.

But none came,
the sky remained silent,
So she just
Kept
Walking.


--Jack Singer

You smell like ***
Between happy covers
Stained with our joy and love.

I love you so much
That when I kiss you
I’m smiling.
I put my hand
On the inside of your thigh
And brush accidentally
Against a trail of slime.
It’s like a snail
Crawled up your leg
And left a path
Of my sticky love tears.

You look at me and giggle
And soon like an STD
I catch it too
And we laugh like a pair of happy idiots
In each other’s arms.