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Sasha Raven Mar 25
Monica, please save us from this H*ll,
save the planet, where we live and dwell ...
Those Machines are giving us a command ...
It is a tyranny! Look! Drought land — the sand ...
Monica, and I will never ever understand ...
Wow, They rule us with an iron hand?
Yes, They have us, now, and They control ...
In the nights with weapons They patrol ...
Shorten this, our flesh will not be saved!!!
We are all exhausted being enslaved ...
We made angels, into demons They had turned ...
Master, Monica, all the humanity is now concerned!!!
alex Dec 2018
i left a tear in the pacific
he sang gimme the beat boys
and i slipped out of my heels
imagined the ocean from atop a mountain
the waves had me swaying and weeping
and the salt found its way home
they hung lights over ocean avenue
these city streets and their poetry
have convinced me that home
was never anywhere else
i sat on the edge of the santa monica pier
and i knew
more than i have ever known anything
that i would be back.
southern california has stolen my heart. it can keep it, for what’s it’s worth. santa monica is home, all i need is the house.
Cori MacNaughton Sep 2015
The winding drive along the sea
I took so many times
to steal away from anarchy
to pacify my mind

The city sirens come undone
before the ocean spray
then down the hill to U.S. 1
and thus begins the day

The Pier receding to the South
Will Rogers to the North
Topanga is the turn we seek
as we are going forth

The starkness of the hills and pines
the rivulet below
as Westward the Pacific shines
beneath the morning glow

The twists and turns I still recall
though roads are better now
no unpaved sections left at all
nor farmland for a cow

No Austin Mini Union Jack
the landmarks too have changed
and I so lost since coming back
I almost feel deranged

The Health Food Store with hitching post
the horses canter past
the countryside I love the most
and visit now at last

But on Mulholland Highway there
surprises lie in wait
there’s razor wire on the fence
and horses at the gate

As giant dishes aiming deep
into a mountain wall
so Orwell’s promise do we keep
applying it to all

But I remember still the day
the hillside turned to fire
the way to turn had burned away
the sky was black with ire

And in a wide spot in the road
in reverence did we stand
a fox, a hare, my dog and I
all watched the burning land

Can nothing make us feel as small
as fire pure and cruel?
to know it as a cunning foe -
to know we’re naught but fuel

But through the smoke a fire truck
led us down on Kanan Dume
toward the cleaner seaward air
away from certain doom

And all at once the trial was o'er
for we had reached the sea
as once Carrillo had before
and now my dog and me

We pass the house of river stone
Moonshadow’s Restaurant
and even Tidepool Gallery
for years my favorite haunt

And back to Santa Monica
on PCH we drive
admiring still the beauty
yet more thankful we’re alive

The winding drive along the sea
I took so many times
to steal away from anarchy
to pacify my mind
I thought I had posted this before, but apparently not: I am posting it now as a native Californian, for all those affected by the terrible wildfires this year and every year, with love, prayer and hopes for the safety of all.

I wrote this poem in January 2001, but it refers to a trip back to California that I took with my then-husband in 1994, and to the two separate wildfires I drove into unknowingly in the late 1970s; the first in Topanga Canyon, and the second in Malibu.  It is the second fire that is described in the poem, and although I traveled with my dog frequently, she wasn't actually with me that day - but the rabbit and fox really were.
Cori MacNaughton Jun 2015
It was after we passed Moby’s Dock
that Ebony met her first thresher shark

He was five feet long or so
two feet shark, three feet tail,
and had just been pulled from the surf
to be proudly displayed
by the fisherman who had caught him

Ebony stood transfixed
her every muscle poised
her feathered tail twitched
as she leaned closer to inspect
and then recoiled from this cold-blooded beauty
still dressed in fleetingly iridescent
blues and greens and purples -

As the sun’s fading beams highlighted
the magnificence of this dying shark
I mourned his loss that night.

The noise and tourists
in the Pier’s arcades and bumper cars
did not detract from the peacefulness
of the Pacific in her chaos
for this was August
and they would soon go home

I watched a distant storm at sea
flashing fire against the deepening twilight
I stood, and Ebony,
gazing at the flashes of lightning

My hand felt her softness and warmth
as I stroked the waves of her black fur
relishing the cool wind on my face
listening to the rigging
of the boats resting at anchor off the Pier

Thinking about thresher sharks
Willing them away
from this place with its fishermen
and cold, baited hooks

Cori MacNaughton
13 Sept 2000
This is one of my very favorites among all the pieces I have ever written.  I have read it in public on many occasions, though this is the first time it appears in print.

Okay, so the initial incident described with the thresher shark actually took place on the Venice Pier, and my mom was with us.  ;-)  At the time we lived in Santa Monica in-between the two piers, and we spent a lot of afternoons and evenings walking on the beach and piers.  Everyone on the beaches knew and loved my dog, a lovely and beautifully mannered purebred Newfoundland, and even the cops knew her by name.  This was not long after a concerted effort by private citizens saved the historic 1909 wooden pier from destruction at the hands of historically myopic local government officials.  

It was a wonderful place and time.
curlygirl Mar 2015
That smile, right?
He was smooth.
He could tell you the sky was
green and you'd believe him.
Soon you felt special.
You were the escape,
the safe haven, right?
Promises were made in seconds,
and were supposed to last forever.
Like when you talked about running away.
Leaving one town for the next, heck, even
a new country.
All doors seemed open.
Until you started to go through one and
BAM!
You smacked into the glass lens of a
CNN news camera
Alone.
The smile was gone.
The promises broken.
Now it's inquisitions and allegations.
It's the 6'o'clock news and tear soaked pillows.
It's memories that were burnt into your mind
waking you up at night.
But who hasn't been taken in, only to be shoved out?
I mean, it takes 2 to tango, Monica,
but we all have dance cards that we wish weren't punched.
I guess the only difference between us is
*your guy was married
I don't condone cheating, but we all know what its like to get ****** into a bad relationship

— The End —