SON
1
making love to make our son I kiss her eyes as if God were inside her
2
my wife gave birth to my son on the floor of the house I built
3
he keeps me up all night ***** on my sleeve feverish cries for his mama until dawn lifts the heads of sunflowers
4
forget poetry going out jazzed our winter born boy needs his diaper changed her ancient *** me house cleaning singing lullabies like a dove
5
wild iris sway as he wades downstream singing
6
one God many stories holding you our son walking the blue earth breathing away the pain with friends
7
amazing the ups and downs my son chasing ducks Sunday eating together my friend’s cancer battle my wife’s selfless moan
8
playing with candlelight my son burnt his finger I warned him
9
shower eat help my son memorize the constellations pay bills watch my wife sleep
10
worried about rats eating wallboard in the dead of night I get up cover my son
11
my son refuses to wear a raincoat in the summer rain
12
in his 2nd grade family drawing: my son gladday ready his mom hugging him me head in the clouds our cat smiling
13
when rains make bitter grass green with laughter my son springs from the winter of his room with his shedding dog and new baseball yelling to his buddies “Wait up!”
14
late afternoon October sycamore shadows blowing elm my son his dog me
15
after days of acid rain the lost sun comes promising heaven sent birds and boys' voices
16
dragged my son up the mountain to watch the meteor shower sons and fathers everywhere I hope
17
my best friend’s grave she loved singing my son asleep now she’s waving grass wildflowers
18
in a vacant lot my freckled face boy floats at the happy end of his 99¢ kite


19
the science of mystical seeds restores your left brain faith in everyday miracles like noisy boys climbing the music of old trees
20
if we could come back her a book of flowers our son blades of grass me the invisible wind
21
6 to 6 deep plowing then wall-to-wall screaming kids a leaky roof the old tractor my darling one naked notebooks full of dreams
22
sling shot boys kick red and gold leaves swirling down the street of locked doors at the tired end of Indian summer
23
my sons reaches for falling snow trampling veined leaves with footloose laughter fearless of winter's night the certain bones
24
true I care more than my son when he plays baseball
25
the orange tree my son planted today will fruit after we’re long gone
26
the bus driver brags about her son’s first home run wishes she could have been there
27
putting flowers on mother’s grave my son holds my hand
28
when night rises I yearn when my son comes home I relax when you sing I surrender
29
WTC on t.v. my son’s face a cloud of tears
30
his father beat him black and blue her husband her their sons their sons
31
the eyes told me that I’d play catch with his sons long after he thought breathed
32
I argued with my son explained the rules he still did what he wanted
33
my boy swaggers down Main St. sure he'll live forever
34
in the back seat good boys brag about good girls what they wanna do with them
35
sleepless until my son comes home late then finally I turn over
and rest
36
the light in my son’s words the silent stones of his tears
37
quiet room unmade bed boys playing in the rain stupid poems awful silence

38
all the dawns evening storms lovely ******* good talk tickled son blow plumeria drift
39
when the stone of night rises I a thief of songs yearn for the music of a woman's light
40
I don't get it gone son lost lover sick friends joyless graying unkissed ******* blood
41
half her half me our son didn't know where to go when she moved out
42
when I'm memory my son might think of me when he's gone I'm only a poem or two
43
bombs hunger lacklove prodigal son abandoned fields come down God get back to work

The WTC towers
Were helped brought down with explosives

Explosions going off everywhere

Explosives were at work on WTC #7
Used to start the fires that would
Be used as excuse for total collapse

Firefighter says, "There is a bomb in the building-start clearing out"

The extreme heat from the pyroclastic clouds melted every car
And ambulance in its path

Active Thermitic Material
Discovered in the dust

May God be with the families
Of those who lost their loved ones
And with those who risked and gave their lives
To help others on 9/11/2001

One of Barry Hodges' (aka Edna's)  charming "Memories" poems

I was in the office with my colleague plump Bet
[totally one of the filthiest ***** I have ever met,
a woman so indiscriminate in selecting a bloke
that no one could be ugly enough to miss out on a poke]
When we heard the news about the Twin Towers attack,
And dear Betty was seized laughing, an aphrodisiac
So fervent it resulted in her gobbing out a lump of phlegm
Green and hideously noisome, a truly lovely gem;
"Splot"* it went onto the floor, lying there reminiscent
Of a frog hit by a passing ten ton lorry laden with cement.

I recognised the symptoms of her desire unfolding
Only too well; I knew that when she got really going
With a frenzied bout of combined giggling and regurgitation,
Only one thing could bring her back to cruel reality: mass copulation.
Thus you will not need to be a polymath to realise and know
That what fat Bet required was to be ******, fast not slow,
By at least half a dozen strong hairy men of lengthy measure
And preferably up her fat ******* for max sensual pleasure,
Whilst she doled out ******* to anyone who offered
To risk their ***** in her mouth so kindly proffered.

Thus it came to pass that I rushed through the corridors
And yelled out to one and all "Betty's got the ******",
Whereupon every red-blooded chappie in the office
[including the one-legged dwarf printer Smelly Boris,
he of the infamous wart-encrusted, donkey ****]
Dropped what he was doing and rushed to the fray headlong
Eager to get their hands on waiting Bet, without fear,  
To give her one up her quivering flabby rear
Before it got too well-stretched, with gape and sag,
Like an old, empty, recyclable, inverted shopping bag.

So, we turned on the TV set to keep an eye on
All the happenings in distant Manhattan
And to keep Bet's state of excitement on the ball;
Dear reader, if anyone ever asks me "Old chap, do you recall
Where you were when the WTC came down?"I can't forget
That, eager to get stuck in, I had just got my turn with waiting Bet,  
And seeing I was twelfth in line to give her a good poking
Her ***-hole was well and truly greased for action, O 'twas soaking.
In conclusion, my hearing was seriously damaged by her sublime
Multi-decibel screams of lust. Begorrah, but I had a grand old time.

A journey of 10 years!
Just dashed in a flash -
But stay happy, tonight
For its the new year night!
Dead people and dreams -
The Pope, Super Man and Steve!
Careers, cars and movies -
BPOs, Ford 500 and Avatar's Navis!

A decade moves on -
All changed. Can't redeem.
But you be merry -
For its the new year, dearie!

Seen couples getting wed -
Arun Nayar and Liz Hurley!
Seen plenty of blood shed
Not them, but Iraq, Iran and the Afghani!

But don't you worry!
We will have days of glory
The past is dead -
For its the new year, ahead!

Heard mighty men scream
Osama v/s George B!
And seen teary eyes gleam
14th Dec'06 at WTC!

We may have lost men
But don't we have many more left?
Come, rejoice with no fear,
For its a new year, so no tears!

Seen many deaths -
Thousands went with the Tsunami!
Seen many more births -
Are we still behind the Chinese?

We will move ahead
For in God, we believe
The future is clear -
For its a new year, dear!

Walking down
       Second Avenue
inside trips of
       electric pulse
my eyes peeled back
to take it all in
my senses full
       of whizzing
action as I
hold your hand
in innocent wonder
I still take a stand
asking questions,
sometimes shyly
observing how I might
want to be
                    or not
colorful people
some with kids
some with spiky hair
clothes of all kinds
progressive air
we turn the corners
(Dad, are those
two women kissing?)
my eyes wide
yes I must
must keep them open
to access what I'm missing
punk queens and their friends
people of every culture
faces of every shade
some friendly some bitter
from dark onyx
          to cool jade
then sophisticated
streets with window
jewel-toned
                     dazzle
to contrast the
nitty-grit
of Lower East Side
street art
        rough-edged
frazzle
West Side laid back
in its pre-hipster scene
now I am a soul-searching
adolescent, my hair dyed
a minty hue of green
vintage skirts and short-spiked hair
feeling anonymous and happy
loving the looks as I
kept my gaze steady
inside feeling my
budding womanhood
at work, making
                     me heady
and how I remember
as a kid
going to visit my grandpa
                                  at work
way up high
amazed by those Twin buildings
slicing clear blue sky
in an elevator that moved
from winds side to side
seeing the whole world
from the top
what a trip, what pride
Flashback to later
in a far-away land
all pregnant
my mouth dropping open
I watched them be ravaged
cityscape landmarks
sawed off in the middle
like a King Kong movie,
                  our eyes disbelieving
fire and brimstone
so much grieving
Trying to call dad and panicking
(***  is he supposed
go to the WTC branch today??)
Not believing how our
           belief in people
turned us into prey
My city I no longer live in your ribs
But you beat inside me
             today everyday
all months not only September
yet today tears do flow
as I vow
    to remember