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Misty mornings
as gray as matter of invisible time
A porch light is lit but there is no one home
Fogged up windows and street lamp tenors  
a white wash sky achieves light    
as a shutter opens the mind is restored,    
it is no longer night.
The muck and the mire
The pen never tires
Expression on fire
Wanting and our desires

The words can never rest
Exposition, the test
Expression, our behest
Sustenance to digest

We feed the world insight
Dull ashes to ignite
Truth, Beauty, Freedom, Love
Our words, not from 'above'

Never dismay. Your words
Are meant to be displayed
******, deafened herds
Emptiness, not weighed...

Lands, the ten second reel
The commercial bombast
Prescriptions, how to feel
Reality, at last

We, The Iconoclasts;

Serve
"Fight" is a call to arms for the mind and spirit, challenging the reader to confront complacency, superficiality, and the noise of modern life. The poem draws attention to the importance of authentic expression, creativity, and a relentless pursuit of truth against the numbing forces of consumer culture and passivity. Each line underscores the role of the poet—or anyone daring to stand apart—as an "iconoclast," one who breaks down the barriers of accepted norms to awaken fresh thought and purpose.

Artistically, "Fight" champions the act of creation as a rebellion against a world that often stifles depth in favor of quick consumption and easy gratification. The imagery emphasizes the persistence of any creator, pen always in hand, igniting the world with words and ideas that defy the expectation of passive acceptance. This piece invites readers to find their voice, to use it as a tool of resistance and expression, ultimately joining in the fight for a world that values genuine, thoughtful, and free discourse.
 Nov 15 Thomas W Case
Kawa
Her
 Nov 15 Thomas W Case
Kawa
Her
She said, **** looks and money,
You’re like books and sunny days, I’m hooked to you like bees to honey, you’re like a brook that is running straight, to my heart.. you move so stunningly, your elegance left me shook, when you stood just in front of, me.
 Nov 15 Thomas W Case
Onyx
I saw a teacher cry today

And I'm not quite sure how to feel

I sort of always viewed teachers as stone

Always there but never truly real
Found among Dad's things while cleaning out his condo. He died at the end of December:

EXHORTATION TO A TROPICAL FRUIT

Go
Mango!

AT THE HEALTH SPA

Virginia slims
Virginia's limbs

THE ULTIMATE CHALLENGE

The daredevil
Dared evil.

LEBANON

Malicious
Militias

THE HOSTESS AND THE BASKETBALL PLAYER

Julia serving
Julius Erving
And I don't know
if I can do it

once steps were so fast and secure . . .
now as hollow as the footsteps to the shadow of heels

All those beautiful colors . . . blend to white water . . . falling apogee . . . the crashing culmination of what dreamt to me
Are you of perfect
Circumference for
A captain in the sky
Voyaging vagabond at night 'til morn'

Walking under the
End of season elms and sycamores
The branches as oars in water
Tilling below shadows come, shadows go, as you stay steady
For I was the water in a rippling stream and you were a solitary sturdy force above
Emulating my gait and gaze

Light hanging with every branch
Into my water
As you lay your supermoon
Beam into our futures
Until you come  again
Leaving your soup of hope in Everything you touched
Even souls

Where will the future be at your return
With hate or love,
Or something in between as a sturdy captain should, be there once more for all the visitors below
Beseeching you for navigation
From on high to below
Altruistic by sight, your perfect shaped stone in the dark of night
Walking my dog at 4 AM under the supermoon Nov 2024 in North America. I envision a world without hate and corrupt vengeful misogynistic leaders. Spread loving kindness and make altruism your guide.
(a university-life vignette)

It’s a Friday night, Leong and I are at a small restaurant close to the dorm called “Ordinary.” We’re in a cozy, pleasantly dark, little red booth—waiting for Lisa—who’s running late. This is Leong’s favorite bar and her taste in exotic drinks is labile—tonight she has us drinking ‘Maker’s Mark,’ a delicious, straight-up bourbon, with a twist of orange peel.

We’re on our second—and I’m starting to buzz—did I mention Lisa’s running late? On a hot note, we’re celebrating. I turned in the first draft of my thesis prospectus last Wednesday and this morning I got it back - accepted.

But more importantly, when I tore into the envelope, back in my room, there was a yellow sticky-note on the prospectus that read like an academic valentine. It said:
“Anais, you write beautifully, with the economy of a poet.”
I may have danced around my room.

So, we’re sitting there, sipping our drinks and noshing on a charcuterie platter when this cute, hipster, Princeton transfer-student guy named Milo showed up—drink in hand. He’s like, 5 '11 with light-brown medium-longish hair tucked behind his ears and he’s wearing a light blue, textured cardigan over a tan t-shirt and leaf-green work pants. At first, he’s walking by, but he spots us and stops.

“Has anyone ever told you look like Anais Vionet?” He asked me.
“No,” I replied, “never.” “You sound like her too,” he followed up.
“Well, I wouldn’t know,” I answered, shaking my head ‘no’ and shrugging.
“But she’d never come to a dive this cheap,” he updogged.
“Oh, yes she would,” I assured him.

Then, I gasped, remembering. Milos on one of Yale’s 500 soccer teams. “You guys lost to Princeton the other day! Isn’t that your alma mater? Congratulations!”
“Thanks, for bringing that up,” he said somewhat chagrined,
“We lost one-to-nil—it was just bad luck,” he said defensively.
“Oh, bad luck,” I chided him.

He did look tired and defeated, so I motioned him to take a seat. He slid right in next to Leong, who’s hand he shook, “Milo,” he said.
“I KNOW,” she said, in a sly and evil way—we’ve talked about him, conspiratorially—even she thinks he’s cute—and cross-culturally-cute isn’t easy.

“Are you superstitious?” Milo asked us—turning so Leong was included.
“Oh, sure,” I spoke first, “I was raised catholic, and even if you don’t hundo-p believe, it carries over. I always carry a lucky crystal with me—you know, for tests and what-not—I depend on that, as opposed to diligence and studying.”

“You have one with you now?” He followed up.
“I do,” I confessed, “I always have one in my bra.”
“Wow,” he laughed, “Why?”
“I don’t know,” I chuckled, “For luck—in case I need to appear supper fun and sassy? Though I guess I’m proof crystals don’t work.”
“Do you really have a crystal in your bra?” He asked, sipping his whisky.
“Yeah,” I said, sliding my hand discreetly into my left cup and bringing out a tiny, flat green, polished Jade stone crystal. “Isn’t that uncomfortable?” He asked.
“Nah, there’s plenty of room in there,” I admitted, sliding the crystal back in place.

“Leong’s superstitious,” I said, nodding to her.
“All Chinese are superstitious,” Leong pronounced, “whenever I had a big exam at school, my mother would go and leave a chicken at the temple.”
Milo and I chortled—I’d actually seen women do that when I lived in Shenzhen.
“Well, I guess it worked!” Milo pronounced, and he and Leong high-fived.
“We have a saying, ‘it’s better to be lucky than good,” he added.
We say, “Yùnqì zhòngyàoguò nénglì,” Leong noted, in Cantonese.
“Luck is more important than ability,” I translated.
Speaking of luck, Lisa finally arrived.
.
.
Songs for this:
Where Are You by 54 Ultra
Cut Glass by mark william lewis
Merriam Webster word of the day challenge 11/12/24:
Labile = open to change.

My thesis topic is "Molecular dynamics simulations of protein folding (or protein-protein interactions)." It isn't easy to give it a poetic twist.

Our cast:
Leong, (roommate) 21, is from Macau, China - the Las Vegas of Asia and she’s a proud communist (don’t knock it til you’ve tried it). She's a ‘molecular, cellular, and developmental biology major.’ I speak Cantonese—which may be why we were paired—I lived in Shenzhen China (about 30 miles from Macau) - we talk a lot of secret trash together.

Lisa, (roommate) 21, my bff. Grew up in a posh, 50th floor residence on Central Park South in Manhattan. She shares my major (Molecular biophysics and biochemistry) and is easily the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in RL (and is sensitive about it). Our tastes match, in everything (fashion, media, music, humor) except men.
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