She's in the sun,
the stars and the moon
She's in the wind,
the heat and the rain
She's in my thoughts,
my memories and wishes
She's my life,
my being and existence
not silver or bronze
tough and fierce
everybody and everything
She hangs on with faith,
not fear and weakness
She spreads love
not sadness or pain
She's gonna be free,
spread her wings and be
Oh, I’m sorry.
You’ll have to forgive my uncultured mind.
I had no idea what being a man was.
Who would have guessed it was more than having something between your legs.
I guess I should go drink a cold one.
Or maybe fix a car.
Watch some sports?
Hit a woman?
That’s what all the real men do.
If you appreciate life and its wonders, you have to be a woman.
How many lives must society take before it crumbles on itself?
But men have it easy, right?
What if I want to cry?
No, I shouldn’t.
Mommy’s the one who cries when daddy beats her.
I guess I should just hit my wife too.
When I’m put into chains and you ask me why.
I’ll tell them, I thought mommy was supposed to cry.
Daddy would always leave her with a black eye.
It’s people like this that deserve to die.
The matron of the nursing home
took Benedict with her. She wanted
to let him see a death so he would
know what to do if it happened on
his watch. They came to the door
of the room. She opened it and a
care assistant was sitting in a chair
by the bed. She rose when she saw
the matron. No change, don't think
she'll be long, the woman said.
Ok we'll take over now; you go off,
the matron said. The woman went off
and Matron closed the door. Benedict
looked at the old woman in the bed.
It was Edna the Yorkshire Lass as
she used to call herself. There's trouble
at mill she used to say jokingly if there
was something going on in the home.
Now she was on the way out: no more
trouble at mill. The matron indicated
for him so stand and wait. Wonder what
it's like to die? What one feels or thinks?
Maybe we don't. The old woman breathed
heavy.; her face was white and clammy;
her eyes were closed. Won't be long, Matron
said in a whisper. He nodded. No more
trouble at mill, Edna, he mused silently,
watching the slow rise and fall of the old
woman's breast. Then suddenly the breathing
stopped; her breast was motionless. She's gone,
Matron said. They waited for a few minutes,
then the matron felt for a pulse. Nothing.
She moved the old woman's arms across
the breast; tied a small bandage around
the jaw and over the head and placed
the eyes down with sticky plaster. Watch
carefully, the matron said. Benedict watched.
The matron took cotton wool and filled up
the nose and and ears and then pulled down
the blanket and uncovered the old woman
and put cotton wool in the other orifices below.
He looked at Edna packed up and ready to go.
Later the undertaker would come and whisk
her away before the other old folk knew
what had happened. Next time, Matron said,
you will know want to do. He nodded and they
closed the door and parted. Just like that.
Done and dusted. The Yorkshire Lass is no more.
He moved away giving one last look at the door.
The Girl of Fall
My Ophelia Doll
My Scarlet gem on Rose Gold
I see you sittin' over there
in a luxuriant chair
with a flower in your hair
My love you'll never lose
I wanna see you groove
in wild copulation
velvet laced vines
Mind swimming in the new wine
Body laden in seducing silk sheets
Your Roots darkened, Soul benevolent
A kiss to die for
A touch to yearn for
We shared our body and minds
A birth rite for lost times
Shall our newborn entity
become a deity
Blessed in Lake Serenity
She'll be sacred
Under the pale moon
pelting sapphire tears in tune
Stars decorated the night sky
with attuned crystals
Serpent woman swaying rhythms in cheer
Look into my restless eyes
frozen in decorated time
Seared from the fire in your eyes
Rolling Snake eyes on a pair-a-dice
Bring forth my daughter in paradise
Had I ate an ancient
and insane root
that withers my mind tainted
freezing my own reasons of doubt
Let's dance off into the gentle Forrest
Where you and I belong naked
with our hopes and dreams
I want us to be ready
As Olive Spectrum lay on the floor at Club Envy with her lungs burning and filling up with blood from being shot by an unknown person she thought her life would never end like this. Olive's tears started to flow as she thought of the years she spent slithering with snakes. Her job at the BNB Bank made it easy to launder money for the Black Crime Syndicate.
It was six years ago in the month of June that her life took a downward spiral.
Upset at the thought of being late for work Olive floored the gas pedal. As she passed by the slow moving drivers weaving in and out of traffic Olive hoped she didn't get a ticket. I just had to stay up late watching the marathon of Funny Man. Now I got to race the clock and pray I don't get stopped by the police thought Olive as she sped past by the other drivers. As Olive Spectrum pulled into the BNB Bank's parking lot she checked the time. "It's 7:55am. I made it within five minutes" said Olive. Olive got out of her car and walked through the bank's glass doors.
As time passed the employees of BNB got the bank ready for the public. One of the three people that arrived at the time of opening was a new face. Mmmmmm yummy thought Olive as she walked up to the tall light skinned man. "Hello sir how may I help you?" asked Olive as she eyed the man up and down. "My name is Akurra Wings. I would like to open a checking and a savings account" answered the tall light skinned man. "Mr. Wings please follow me to my office" said Olive. As Olive and Akurra sat in Olive's office filling out papers Olive made it up in her mind that she would get to know Akurra on a personal level.
After a day's work Olive got behind the wheel of her BMW and started her drive home. On her way home Olive called her best friend Jewel Stone Wall. "Hello Jewel how are you?" asked Olive with one hand on the steering wheel and the other hand holding her cellphone." "I'm doing great Olive. What's up?" answered Jewel Stone Wall as she did one of her client's hair at her salon the Golden Scissors. "Are we still on for Saturday?" asked Olive. With a confused look on her face Jewel asked "Is the day Friday already?" "Yeah girl what day did you think it was?" responded Olive. "To tell you the Truth Olive I thought the day was Thrusday" said Jewel. "No Jewel it's Friday. I'm glad I have a friend who owns a hair salon" said Olive. "You better be thankful. I'll talk with you later Olive" said Jewel. "Ok bye Jewel" said Olive.
Olive Spectrum was a plain looking black woman in her 30's who lived a very plain life. She always looked forward to Saturday. A day she would spend at the Golden Scissors getting her hair done and talking with Jewel Stone Wall her childhood friend.
Written by Keith Edward Baucum
I saw myself in the bus window,
a paper-white, hunched over,
5'7, gristle deficient
foolish idiot of a thing—
a pink mound stands on the periphery
of my pink cheeks,
sheaf-edge lips stained with the
blood of wine,
an apish grin spread across my face and
I felt unusually pleased
for nothing, for no reason,
(oh well, it sticks being stuck
in the doldrums , yes...)
the hair hangs like cords
(some of it in face and some not)
and I sat there on that seat,
thinking: oh, how disgusting!
male opinion didn't concede,
however, and it was only the
old love and the current love
and male friends who said opposite.
even if I thought they were all
it's nice to know that you,
as a female,
are liked for
by the guys.
"And her, and her lime green hair
Calamax, oh Calamax:
The sister fair.
From her throne
Had thoughts, and thoughts
Her neighbors grown
To newfound grass
So she passed.
Flighty and light
Her steps were made,
Made meaningless strides
Eventually which dug her grave.
In time she added
All she did need
Every each day
She found feed,
Foal she was
Foolish and dirt
Likely to lose.
In path she was
To kingdom fame
To find reknown,
In gold so vein,
In this it was
And always will be
A forigen concept,
To the narrator: me.
Your beauty full,
Come to home
Our cart to pull."
We entreat you so
Rest with us,
A new home we'll be-
Stay and see."
This: their words,
And soon she lay
Upon the road
The same she traveled
To escape ailing abode
In deep well she was
In cast: sad lot
Her feet bare, breathing stop.
Her talent took
Her far away
And daybreak smell
Life's errs and cracks
Her soul we mourn:
The invincible force of creation
The electrifying animator
The ancient secret of the nature
The refuge from mechanical contraptions
The deep well of psychic generator
The missing thread between the carnal and the spiritual
Is the gift from God to men
The face of truth and love
The resilient root of civilization and humanity
The Oracle database of higher planes
The progeny of enigmatic beauty
The consuming fire
The waves of destruction
Womanhood is there to preserve the world from perishing
It is there to conserve the voice of God