Sean Kassab: Favorites

May 2012 Sean Kassab

Pamela Loykowski

It was written in the sand
As clear as a pen to paper "I wish I had a friend"
A young girl wrote it with tears on her face
As children laughed and played around her
Yet with all those children
there stood one alone
No one saw her
No one cared
As if she were invisible she walked away
Alone and friendless
My heart goes out to this child
But someday a good friend she'll find
I to have wished for a friend
When all was dark
I to have written it down
In my mind a time or two
But now as time has passed
The notes I write
Are to the lost

May 2012 Sean Kassab

at a loss for words

May 2012 Sean Kassab

Helen

at a loss for words

his little red car didn't do 100
it didn't even do 55
it just scooted around the carpet
getting stuck on sticky substances
that were not embarrassing
his little red car drove along
uneven ground, and occasionally
ran into feet, that were mountains
that crushed the little red car
in anger and under the heel of rage
he was lost for words
his little red car, not broken
still on four wheels still drove on
until the day it ran into Mommas hand
it backed up and drove forward again
and the hand didn't move
it didn't ruffle angelic hair
and it didn't wave away his little red car
with indulgence
it didn't move at all
he was lost for words
he drives slowly along the streets
in his black car, red a color of agony
while he scoots around the alleys
his bare feet cold upon metal
there is no carpet, no stickiness
to be left as an unknown substance
allowed to cloud his vision
of how it is to be to drive around
carefree
at a loss for words

May 2012 Sean Kassab

Entropic

May 2012 Sean Kassab

Rob Rutledge

Entropic

The future is strange is it not?
All our hopes and dreams
Aspirations sewn at the seams
Of a dwindling reality.
Everything is possible,
I suppose.
And if we concentrate just so,
We too can take a glimpse of the show
That lies behind drawn curtains.

Nothing is certain
This I think I know.
Yet at times we feel the ebb and flow
Of futures yet to pass.
Not to be divined from entrails
Of a broken looking glass.
Mirrors have their uses
To show what others see,
But no great revelations
Of what will come to be.

Have our minds been made,
Long before ourselves?
Are we cartesian nightmares
Unto which we delve?
Is our image of ourselves
As foolish as I think?
And what becomes of the world
In the instance that we blink.

Have these words been uttered
By anothers tongue.
Under the guise of destiny
A pointless race to run.
Thoughts implanted,
Minds enchanted
By the most temporal of enemies.
Throttle the future with me now
As we fight the tides of entropy.

May 2012 Sean Kassab

What I Should've Been Taught As a Kid.

May 2012 Sean Kassab

mads

What I Should've Been Taught As a Kid.

Don't ever slay that mighty dragon
It's wings will crush you with the slightest movement
And it's firey breath will curl around your head.
You will not win.

Do nibble on the magic fungi
It'll show you the unimaginable to dream upon
And you'll find yourself in a fairytale with the pixies.

Don't plant those beans
The ones in which you gave a cow for.
The castle at the top of the stalk
Is not worth your time.

Do burn the witch, not for all the wrong reasons.
Let her teach you her black magic ways
And if she decides to turn against you
Then you have every right to lead her to the stake in chains.

Black cats are not bad luck.
If they're nice, they're your friend
Otherwise throw them under the ladder
Or into a mirror.

The beast is not always a prince under the witches spell.
Sometimes, he's just a ******* creep.

The knight in shining armor
Is just a suit against a wall in the castle hallway.

The wolf is not always there for the baked goods in the straw basket.
He wants more, your virginity maybe?
He'll steal all he can take which is everything.

No ***** is ever as pretty as those princesses or damsels in distress.
Most have the face of the witch
With the mask of a beauty.

May 2012 Sean Kassab

A symphony of the lowest bells overcoming walls

May 2012 Sean Kassab

Leafar Mamede

A symphony of the lowest bells overcoming walls

I
I juggle with shades and figures and also skulls
Vicious and virtuous
Sinister and righteous
Vile and saintly
And that goes on and on and on
Countless shades that conceal the sun and quaintly
Also the mournful moon withdrawn
Multitudinous figures who speak and screech
And conjure from the vessel adrift of humanity
Myriad skulls with freedom of speech
Or wouldn't they be inhumanity

There is insanity in my sanity

I like to be in the drift
To go with the flow
To be unattached of enlist
For lost causes and “shows”

There is insanity in my sanity!

I like to sail more than a smidgen
To grasp and see the proper bliss:
From fear comes religion
From insanity comes questionings, comes this

Oh, yes! There is insanity in my sanity!

II
I keep juggling with my depth and core
Hopping from one to another
Cautiously not to let any of them drop for
The stream of existence or it will be smothered
And I’ll lose my sense of course
Leading me towards my martyr
Wave by wave sinking my vital force
Until the border of overwhelming disorder
That is imminent but in slow-motion
For I’ve yet an entire ocean
To sail across before I diagnose if I’m:

The death of my hero
Or
The hero of my death
?

III*
Sound waves of a drifting symphony
Leads me to where the curious compass points
For I'm a sailor simply for another epiphany
And to inscribe the momentum with paints
Of memories of a posterior I
Ready to retry
Indeed I sail through an immaterial hour
For I'm a sailor until the idyllic harbor
That arises in the unending horizon