Two towers that fell like inferno from hell with gravity reversed, a tragedy staged and rehearsed.

A plot to cover currency lost, a drop in the bucket of the price paid by the bodies that laid scattered. We were told it was terrorism and that was all that mattered.

The american people racked by grief of loss, gave up their freedom no matter the cost.

What we gave up that day was the hope to win the class war that had already began.
Embezzlement, fraud, lobbying, and racketeering were no where nearing an end. After all the rise of corporate fascism disguised as democracy, the hypocrisy that the peoples votes counted when the control of the oligarchy would always surpass and surmount.

The all mighty dollar stacked high like a tower came crumbling down. Built on flimsy lies and destroyed by greed, it was the want and never the need.

It all happened the day before. You just werent paying attention, nothing more.

He left with that same blue button-down shirt to our third date.
I remember the fire wavering at our dinner table.
He wore that same smile everyday
but I needed to see that smile more times,
though I'm thankful for all the times I did.
Years later I can still feel his lips on my temple,
"plane's taking off, I love you," deeply incrusted in my mind.
I can't stand texting anymore.
I stared into the eyes of the flames when I turned on the news
and felt the world around me shatter
and the ground beneath me quiver.
I can't stand watching the news.
And even though I celebrate on my own
the date we decided to be one,
there are 11 days into September that hurt and burn.
I can't stand September month.
And so I went  to bed the night of the 10th
not knowing my heart would go the next day,
14 years ago today,
and never come back into my chest.
*14 years aren't enough to forget.

Their love is a night of ecstasy in an underground speak easy
Forbidden liquor gracing their lips, turning their blood to the drink of Aphrodite
Dancing, floating, flying in the age of jazz, the age of freedom
Saxophones and metronomes setting tempo to a timeless love affair

Their love is a black and white film projected onto a satin screen
Hundreds of judgmental eyes staring catatonic at a passion they cannot comprehend
Played on repeat, a classic
90 minutes turns to an eternity

Their love is a soldier returning from a distant land,
embracing the feeling of home
Dodging fatal bullets, beating every odd
The very second their lips meet again captured in a famous photograph

Their love is a movement, marching through Washington
Desegregation of the streets, unity at heart
Standing up when staying down is simpler,
Staying one when splitting is easier

Their love is a song that will sit a the top of the charts
When music was the newest form of sustenance
A melody that will not be soon forgotten,
Preserved in the old record hanging on the wall

Their love is falling
Their love is crashing
Their love is burning
Their love is dying

Their love has taken a hit and cannot possibly withstand another
But surely enough, another comes
An understanding is lost,
Terror breaks out

Gasping for breath, for light, for any means
Their love is a world in turmoil, a city in rubles, a date never forgotten
They were not meant to crash
They could not possibly have fallen

Their love is barely breathing, a monitor a-rhythmically beeping
Their love is crumbling with the world's sense of safety,
An event that scarred too deeply

Their love is now erstwhile
As everyone picks up the pieces
Their love ran its course
But fell through the cracks of time

He turned and kissed her,
He put his hand on her stomach to greet the new life, his voice a purr.
Off to work he goes,
But no one knows.
Until this day,
When our nation was turned into a useless fray,
Where everything will soon be a monotonous gray.
He forgot his keys,
So he doesn’t leave.
Maybe if he would of stayed a little longer,
His life wouldn’t of been stolen,
From terrorist mongers.
He pulls away,
Not knowing about this day.
“Goodbye, my dear. You have nothing to fear.”
A silver car,
She thinks, “He won’t travel too far.”
Little does she know,
He will soon go.
Go to a place with angels and things,
Where he will gain his wings.
When the news announces the attack,
Her heart has been snatched, never to be given back.
Going to the towers,
Her heart plucked, like a balding flower.
The towers falling,
The children calling,
A fatherless baby brought into the world,
Never to be known as “Daddy’s Little Girl”.
That was the day her walls fell down,
That was the day, her emotions were in a bound.
Clutching the Hopeless,
The world in a mess.
Our nation too soon to be broken,
Before anyone could have spoken.
Our people will climb back to their knees,
Open your eyes, please.
We can tolerate pain for so long,
Before we proceed to right the wrong.

For one day the World cried
It watched helplessly as they died
A crashing plane, shattering impact
The screaming starts from that act

A burning building of no escape
All the World is watching, agape
People jumping, they have no hope
Little girl with tears, she can not cope

Even as she sees it on a TV screen
The building collapses, a horror now seen
Little girl, crying because it is real
If only this terror she did not feel

Suddenly, another plane hits the other tower
The fear of that little girl sends her to cower
She is only seven, you hold and cry with her
You are not alone because the World cries together

Fire fighters and police, they are heroes all
Some are trapped in the ruins, heroes fall
Years have passed by, tears still collect
That terror still remains, because we never forget

What Hope Remained?

What hope remained when hope for hope was spent?
        When putrid plumes dulled morning into night
        Hope lived in heart-struck deeds of bold intent,
        As mortals wept and earthborn angels went
        With downcast eyes to clamber heavens height.

What hope remained when hope for hope was spent?
        When panicked sirens wailed a lost lament
        And backs were bowed beneath ungodly weight,
        Hope lived in heart-struck deeds of bold intent
        As boots bore souls up treadmills burnt and bent
        To scale a void devoid of dawning light.

What hope remained when hope for hope was spent?
        For those in sight of angels heaven sent
        Atop the world to aid their mortal plight,
        Hope lived in heart-struck deeds of bold intent.

        When wingless brethren conquered feared ascent
        To gift last hope to all who saw their might:

                What hope remained when hope for hope was spent?
                Hope lived in heart-struck deeds of bold intent.



In The Fall

I chanced upon a stranger in the fall,
Cosmetic garb of office black and white
Portraying calm demeanor of his plight
As shadows panicked on a stricken wall,

And oft' I find my mind in numb recall
To look upon that helpless human kite
Who tumbled from the terrors of a height,
Yet graceful as an eagle in a stall

Before it plummets earthward --   'Neath the pall
Of twisted steel rended by follied flight,
That stranger lives forever in the light
Suspended in iconic timeless sprawl.

        I wonder, in the briefness of his fall,
        Did he derive the meaning of it all?

she's been staring at blank pages
tapping her pencil against the desk
shaking her foot
she's been staring at blank pages
lost for inspiration.

she's started to cry
late at night
sometimes in the day
she's got a weight on her chest
she overwhelmed with emotions.

She's been filling up those blank pages
pencil swishing back and forth
paintings
drawings
poems
stories
each tear drop
a new chapter
every sniffle
a stroke of the brush

overjoyed to produce lovely work
dying from the pain
loathing the necessity
that artists
need to be miserable
in some way
or another
to be great

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.