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T Jones Aug 2014
Not a poem but in protest of flagging truth about racism in Traverse City, Michigan


Traverse City, Michigan: Racism is still alive and well in our area.

We weren't always welcoming
Cross burning's (City of Traverse City, MI)
I'm born and raised in Traverse City, Michigan and still living in the same neighborhood where I grew up. I can remember when blacks were not welcome in most parts of town and the one or two around were military visitors.

We had two known cross burning incidents. One back in the late 80's or early 90's the other was around 1924, ******* groups like Ku Klux **** was behind both cross burning incidents. I found old articles on the earlier one but someone is trying hard to white wash history of Traverse City by hiding evidence of the most resent one. Ones like me who were there remember those dark days like it was yesterday. It don't bode well for tourism or the Cherry Festival if there's a record of racism in our city.

Copy pasting one two different retelling of story reported by our sometimes biased Record Eagle articles regarding the first and and will continue to dig for the other one.

January 31, 2009
KKK was active in early '20s

The 1924 bombings and cross burnings in downtown Traverse City were not the first **** activity in northern Michigan.

The Record-Eagle reported flaming crosses in the Mancelona area on Aug. 1, 1923, a full year before. Six weeks later, Traverse City commissioners refused the **** permission to hold a Sept. 17 open-air meeting at the corner of Front and Cass.

About 300 people showed up anyway and marched to a vacant lot west of Front and Union after the unidentified property owner gave permission, carefully noting that it "did not commit him to any relationship with the organization," the newspaper said.

The Record-Eagle also passed on information from an identified **** source in its Sept. 17 report:

Two, maybe three organizers had worked for weeks in Traverse City. About 150 Traverse City men from "among the leading citizens" had joined. An open-air ritual with the traditional fiery cross burning on a hillside would be held "sometime but not yet" in or near Traverse City, and it would be "merely a part of the **** ceremonies and have no special significance."

People who expected to see hooded men in white robes performing rites at the Sept. 17 rally were bound to be disappointed, the paper said. A new state law banned wearing masks in public. It also would be difficult to tell how many in the audience were KKK members because "every person who has signed the Ku Klux card has pledged to keep his membership an absolute secret."


Traverse City, Michigan wasn't always welcoming to people of color.


Traverse City Record-Eagle

February 1, 2009
Ku Klux **** terrorizes TC in 1924

KKK cross burnings, explosions rock city

By LORAINE ANDERSON
Black History Month has special significance, since it begins fewer than two weeks after the nation's historic inauguration of its first black president, Barack Obama.

But there are parts of that history that Traverse City, like the rest of the nation, would rather forget. The city never had a large black population, but it did not escape a visit from the Ku Klux **** during a frightening night of downtown explosions and cross burnings on Aug. 9, 1924.

Traverse City has never seen anything like that night of terror. Buildings shook. Store windows cracked and shattered. Houses as far away as 16th Street quaked, the Record-Eagle reported.

And though outside agitators were blamed, some local people may have been involved.

It started about 8 p.m. after three explosions went off across the river from the Lyric Theatre, where the State is today.

The crowd at the Lyric all but stampeded toward the door as women and children screamed. Panicked shoppers spilled out of downtown stores. City police phones jangled with alarm.

A large cross burned on the north side of the Boardman River near Cass Street. About 50 smaller burning crosses appeared almost simultaneously at the centers of intersections across the city. Each was crudely nailed together and swathed in oil-soaked rags. Sparks flew when several cars struck them. A city fire truck raced through town to douse flames.

Then, a "touring car" with four men, robed and hooded, though not masked, slowly trolled down Front Street carrying a sign surrounded by red flares blazing three letters: KKK.

Copies of the Ku Klux **** newspaper, "The Fiery Cross," later were found downtown, and police determined that at least two cars were involved in planting and lighting the crosses.

**** leaders called the explosions and flaming crosses a recruiting gimmick, but it was more than that. The 1920s was a reactionary time in the United States. The **** had risen again, starting in 1915, widening its anti-black focus to Jews, Catholics and immigrants, particularly those from southeastern Europe. Its membership was strongest in Illinois, Indiana and Ohio.

The ****'s most powerful year was 1924, when it reached an all-time high of 5 million members nationwide and virtually controlled the government of Indiana. Its most popular slogan was "100 percent pure American."

The **** had a solid base of support in Michigan. The **** fielded two candidates in the Republican gubernatorial primary in 1924 and a ****-backed candidate was elected mayor of Flint. A write-in **** candidate even made a strong showing in a Detroit mayoral race.

In June 1924, 1,000 men joined the KKK in an Oakland County cross burning attended by about 8,000 people. Traverse City's demonstration took place just two months later. But who was really behind it?

"There is some doubt among the authorities as to whether the offenses were actually committed by local people or men from outside. They believe that local people were associated in the affair," the Record-Eagle reported.

An unidentified spokesman for the local **** denied responsibility, speculating that it was the work of **** enemies or rogue Klansmen. He told the Record-Eagle that the **** repudiated terror tactics and burning of "unwatched crosses."

Two weeks after the bombing, city police obtained felony and misdemeanor arrest warrants accusing Ku Klux **** organizer Basil Carleton of Richmond, Ind., of setting off explosives. Indiana police arrested him on Aug. 29.

Witnesses testified in two trials in December and January that Carleton had purchased 25 pounds of dynamite, fuses and three caps from Hannah & Lay Mercantile Co. about two hours before the explosions. A Park Place Hotel clerk said he saw Carleton hurrying away from the direction of the explosions about 10 minutes later. Two **** members testified that Carleton was not at the scene.

Yet he was never convicted. Juries acquitted him in both cases because the prosecutor could not prove to their satisfaction that he was at the scene of the explosion or that he personally set off the dynamite.

The bomber escaped justice. But the good news was that in Traverse City, no night of terror like that happened again.

It was this event that sparked the cross burning in Traverse City. We had only one black family in our city, when Betty Ponder and her family left Traverse City for the first time due to no one wanting to rent to them, population of blacks in our predominately white city drop to zero.


******* Movement Targets Northern Michigan

by Robert Downes

National Alliance advocates the creation of "two Americas"

Traverse City, Mich., noted primarily for its beaches, tourists and cherry pie values, appears to be erupting as a national battleground of opinion over the ******* movement, with forces on both sides of the issue coming out of the woodwork to vent their outrage over racial issues.
On Thursday, June 5, residents along stretches of Washington and Front streets in town came home to find a slick package of information from the National Alliance hanging from their doorknobs. An outgrowth of the American **** Party, the National Alliance is a ******* group which advocates the creation of "two Americas," one of which would be "White Space only with no Jews or blacks." The Alliance, advocates genocidal practices if need be to achieve its goals, and plans to distribute 1,000 information packets in Northern Michigan.

Protest organized to oppose July "NordicFest"
The incident arose only a day after more than 150 people from throughout Northern Michigan gathered at a "Hate-Free TC" meeting to oppose the NordicFest, a skinhead rock festival sponsored by the Ku Klux ****, to be held at a secret location 20 miles south of town, July 3-6.
The NordicFest is being advertised on the Internet and will feature at least six skinhead bands featured on Stormfront Records and Resistance Records -- both of which are purveyors of neo-**** hate music. It will also reportedly feature speakers from the Ku Klux **** and Aryan Nations.

Thus far, the NordicFest's location has been a closely-kept secret by David Neumann of Bloodbond Enterprizes, the concert organizer and a former director of the Michigan Knights of the Ku Klux ****. Neumann has told local media that 300 tickets have been sold for the concert -- about half the number he expects to sell. Reportedly, concertgoers will be provided with maps to the secret location at a checkpoint.

Bands expected to play at the NordicFest include Intimidation One, Aggravated Assault, Blue Eyed Devils, Max Resist and the Hooligans, and No Alibi.

Local churches offering seminars on the ******* movement and the importance of diversity
GATHERING STORM

Journalists have made inquiries on the NordicFest from as far away as London, New York and Colorado as a result of the Northern Express story circulating on the Internet. A segment for National Public Radio is expected to take the issue nationwide, possibly focusing the world's attention on Traverse City on the eve of the National Cherry Festival -- an event which draws more than half a million visitors, many of them from ethnic minorities.
"We're creating a rainbow ribbon that we hope everyone will wear in rejection of skinheads and the ****," said Rabbi Stacey Fine of Hate-Free TC. "We hope to have hundreds of ribbons during the time the **** is here, available from downtown merchants."

Fine says the group also hopes to march in the National Cherry Royale Parade with a three-by-eight-foot banner covered with thousands of signatures in a show of support for racial and cultural diversity. Thus far, Cherry Festival officials say they have received no applications from Hate-Free T.C., but will consider the request if approached.

Dottie Kye of Hate-Free TC says the group doesn't plan to try stopping the NordicFest despite their opposition ot the concert. "We're ignoring it," Kye says. "We celebrate anyone's right to organize and free speech. But our thing is unity and celebrating diversity." In addition to several church seminars on the ******* movement and the importance of diversity, Hate-Free TC is organizing a three-day "Unity Festival" which will feature dozens of musicians, artists, poets, actors and peace activists at the Traverse City Opera House, July 3-6.

Concert organizers Tim Hall and Tom Emmott say that more than 40 musical acts will send a pro-diversity message to area teens, with performers including Willie Kye, Alright Already, John Greilick, Samantha Moore, the Motor Town Juke Boys, Bentley Filmore, the Sisters Grimm, and Lack of Afro, among many others. A concert with Fishbone is planned for later in the month.

"Even if the NordicFest doesn't happen, something positive is going to come of it because it gets people thinking about the prevention of violence"
THE TEEN CONNECTION

The Unity Fest counter-concert is seen as a vital tool in fighting the influence of the ******* movement on teens in the area. After the initial story broke, the buzz in local high schools was that the NordicFest would be offering free beer to minors. Although that notion is clearly erroneous, a small number of teens in the area still cling to the idea and have also been attracted by the rebellious nature of the skinhead rock scene.
Tim Hall believes that his Unity Fest concert will help turn that tide. The three-day concert will be located in the heart of Traverse City in the old City Opera House, with easy access for the hundreds of teens who hang out downtown, often with little to do. "Our message is going to be one that values racial and cultural diversity," Hall said. "And we've had a great response so far. We had to put a lid on the performers when we reached 40 acts, because everyone wants to play at this event."

The Unity Fest will also coincide with the Annual Reggie Box Memorial Blues Blast, which was created five years ago to bring the heritage of black music to Northern Michigan for the overwhelmingly white Cherry Festival. This year's Blues Blast will feature John Mayall, Marcia Ball and the Bihlman Bros. in a free concert downtown on July 6. The concert will also feature a strong message promoting diversity.

The law enforcement view Traverse City Police Chief Ralph Soffredine says members of the law enforcement community, including the State Police and sheriffs from Grand Traverse and Wexford counties, are taking a wait-and-see approach as to whether the NordicFest will even be held.

"People ask what we would do if the skinheads wanted to march, and it's our position that they have the same rights under the First Amendment as anyone as long as they're obeying the law," Soffredine said. "It's a neutral situation for us. We just want to maintain the peace."

He added that skinheads coming to Traverse City would be treated "no different than if longhairs come into town, or square dancers. We'd certainly observe them and respond if there's trouble."

The chief noted that a similar event occurred in the Buckley area several years ago when several motorcycle gangs gathered for a rally. While the event was monitored by local police agencies, few people in the area knew that it occurred.

"Even if the NordicFest doesn't happen, something positive is going to come of it because it gets people thinking about the prevention of violence, which has become a serious problem in our community and our schools," he concluded. "The unfortunate thing is that it sometimes takes a ******* or a racial issue for people to get active."

"Sheriff Barr implies that people who have the courage to confront them will be put in jail."
ANGER FROM ACTIVISTS

Not everyone is happy with the neutral attitude of law enforcement. Judy Lowenzahn of Traverse City thinks that local police agencies should get tough on the **** concert, which has no legally-required bond or liquor license.
"These hateful groups are using skinhead music to recruit soldiers for their facist movement," Lowenzahn said. "If they are allowed to hold this event, in violation of local, state and federal laws and in violation of common decency, we will be capitve audience to their deranged homophobic, anti-semitic, racist, sexist ideology. Those who protest this message, along with those who are their scapegoats will be targets for hate crimes."

Lowenzahn upbraided Grand Traverse County Sheriff Barr after he made comments in a local paper that "I'd just as soon personally let them have their little event and be on their way." Barr added that if there was a confrontation between the skinheads and protestors, "there's going to be someone in jail."

"Does Sheriff Barr suggest that people of color and others who don't fit the aryan model hide inside their homes for the holiday weekend?" Lowenzhan responded. "Rather than offer a plan to protect the community from the violence that grows whenever white supremecists do outreach, Sheriff Barr implies that people who have the courage to confront them will be put in jail."

Northern Michigan targeted because of the predominantly white population
KLUELESS

Up to now, the vast majority of Northern Michigan residents have been klueless on the **** and the ******* movement. Many, for instance, had no idea that there even was a Ku Klux **** operating in the region until Neumann revealed that there are about 60 members operating mostly as "a fraternal organization" between ******* and the Mackinac Bridge.
Similarly, the existence and agenda of the National Alliance is all-ne
~
Rigel

Art thou
Thy soul
Of souls
Reaching
O to thee?

Or that
Celestial
Tide thus
Brimming
So, most
Delightful
Beams o'er
Me?

~

Sirius

O, Yes!
My Bride-to-be,
Spinning fiercely
Like a dervish in
This galaxy!

~

Rigel

My flames! My core!
Held together by my
Own attractiveness, I
Assure, I need not thee
Tis myself I do adore!
Fantastic mysteries
I keep thus pure!

Woo me to Love?
You seem assured
Of your Self as well!
But you must make
Haste to hence take
This, my body, O!
Heretofore to meld.

~

Sirius

My lust forsaken
Broken, taken!

See how hot
These fires
Thus burn,
All my Love
To you I turn!

~

Rigel

Be gone!
Be gone!
My Love
Must be earned.

~

Sirius

O what woe!
Woebegone
And melancholy!
Ease my malady,
Be my Lady!

~

Rigel

Perhaps one day
I shall, but as of
Now, I turn
Thee away.

~

Sirius

I shall do
My utmost
To burn
So close
Today
Tomorrow
So perhaps
Someday
It will be so.

~

Rigel silently

*Sigh, you
Persistent thing;
I wish to cradle
You, soon too.
This is a satire dialogue of love unrequited between two fiercely burning, vainglorious and  divine celestial stars Rigel and Sirius desperately falling in love, not admitting it.

Written and imagined by ~ Jamie L. Cantore & Impeccable Space Poetess ~ as a divinely sweet, hardworking, inspiring collaboration. Let there be light! Life! Humour! And our creation! All rights intimately reserved. ;):-)

Thank you so much, Jamie, your a dear poet to me<3 lmpeccable Space poetess.

Hope that You~fellow readers have
enjoyed our little celestial story.
Thank you for reading and commenting
"Thrilled Tokens of Desperate Love"
Barton D Smock Jun 2012
church.
entering the body
after a stroke.

milk.
my shadow
made of grass.

cow.
dumbly regarding
another’s art.

...

radio.
grandpa cursing outside
then inside
the barn.

distance.
two babies on their backs,
one a boy and one a boy-
their mothers

one of them truthfully
says bingo.

pyramid scheme.
I am sleeping
on you, on your
insomnia.

protest.
a man without sin
and his two
******* birds.

unison.
proving
your half
is also

unicorn.

crow.
we don’t use the crow.

...

infatuation.
what a knee
has
for its other.

owl.
pillow
for which
the night
has long
been looking.

yawn.
moaning
into mother
my father’s

     swimmer’s

ear.

high-dive.
or a very
private
room.

...

worry.
a thesaurus
the men
don’t use.

work.
for every right hand
a left hand
denier.

ants.
pieces
of hell
burdened
with pieces
of hell.

...

***.
two
as if they fear
a third.

poetry.
thoughts
before I have them.

house.
where mother
took place.

father.
all gods
talk
in their sleep.

body language.
writing
about yourself
with others.

the future.
every now and then
one is given
now and then.

suicide.*
might I record
this moment?
Clare Wright Mar 2010
Come you lovers make the leap,
Take the cup drink long and deep,
For it is the cup of love,
Press firmly to your lips,
Hold it very close.

Pick the fruit and taste it well,
Savour and adore the spell,
For it is the love apple,
Bite it with delight,
You have it made.

Tie the binds and make them tight,
Keep your heart and pledge alight,
For it is the love knot,
Intertwine your parts,
They do not slip.

Wear the lock around your neck,
Keep your head and heart in check,
For it is the love lock,
The token shared,
Love eternal.

Rejoice it is a feast so fine,
A feast to last the end of time,
For it is the love game,
You play so pure,
So certain to win.

Release the birds of shining fire,
Their paradise in the sky much higher,
They are the love birds,
Born to fly above,
They fly together.

Appreciate and delight your emotion,
Take your love and swallow the potion,
For it is love nectar,
Manner from heaven,
Ambrosia of gods.

Crave your possession with your part,
Bathe your lover's swollen heart,
For it is the love caress,
Breathe tender regard,
Give any consideration.

Take all circumstance and dance all night,
Eat the cherries and lose the fight,
For love is letting go,
Let things be,
Thrive and free.

Hold them in your arms an atmosphere not bland,
Take all burnings as willows love wet land,
For the love of life,
Let all things grow,
Nurture and fulfil.

Take all your desires and all your yearnings,
Discover your lover through all of their burnings,
For you are the love birds,
Born to fly above,
You fly together.

Look out at the world in the same direction,
Hold your love in deep affection,
For love is a passage,
Through the storm,
Breathe it in.

Ride high on the tidal wave of boundless ocean,
Swelling the seas with all your emotion,
For love overflows,
Feel the heat in your veins,
Sit in the seat of love.
Barton D Smock May 2013
terrorism

trading
back and forth
the dead
before they are
and after


pilgrimage

one’s ******
recovery
of a native
alienation


novitiate

I know my mother
by the back
of her hand


drone*

I don’t believe
in being
attacked
Barton D Smock May 2013
abortion

beneath
the highest
pop fly            
on record

divination

found myself alone
in a *******

*******

epitaph

easier
if I
imagine

you are     clothed

angels

any mystique
surrounding
  a small town
   search party

blood**

     this *******
from the reader
of my

palm
murari sinha Sep 2010
if the sinking-of-boat …ice-cream by name
be deducted from the swept-off-in-flood … by name roll no 31
then would the wings of the comics
cease to exist

what says the uninterrupted sound of water-falling
from the stomach of the moon

what writes the pus and blood
what writes the fuming-hot rice

the creepers and the herbs grow continuously
in the insomniac bath-tub

the sounds of the horse-hoof floated by the river
used to change the velocity of its clothes
both in the morning and evening

the birds from the cornice go to school
by dip-swimming

it may come one day when the fishes
become very angry and in the tale of the sweet-meat
the potter will destroy the jointly-built bee-hive

then all hurricane would be habituated to dinner
sans saliva

then there would be no such morning-walk
in the body of the trees
from which such a bore could be found out
through which an elderly saral may fly
into the blue translation of a squirrel

the magnetic field of the orange-pulp
and the productivity of the open window
reside in the same locality

if their frequency be touched  

then the the antenna of the mermaids
speared with sleeping-oil
may be injured

by burnings their eyes
the crow-birds knocks at
in the soap-foams
produced by the afternoon

the pond with a jumping deer
wants to make bite  

it is not known by this way
when a white hyphen
sticks to the palate of the shirt

now put off all the whispers
and let it be talked on the will-paper of the bees

why the pages from the honourable ash-trays
be excluded

those bunch of waters
that come out from the churning of the anises
and the jumps born of their *****
also make friends with the group-photos

now let this other night sends its best wishes
to the future candles
through a cell-phone
island poet Aug 2019
green island privilege

we thread our way through the Johnstone Strait,
where every landmass, largest and smallish,
all islands, so this particular three-island-man is comforted and
comfortable in his surroundings, in his skin,
in his watery rivered veins

the outlines of myriads shapes, assorted puzzle pieces of earth adrift,
fitted sheets, awaiting assembly upon the magic of water,
fitting the continuously moving puzzling frame, accepting all,
mutually funding each other for each must, by definition,
define each other

the sky allows itself to be glimpsed, “yes, I’m still blue,” it teases,
but sky is busy bathing its undersides, in gloomy whites
of a bubble bath, of a deep morning mournful fog,
we underneath, observing, bestride a double sided fir and pine forests corridor either-sided of our the cold calm watershed,
a green privilege

fog above, touching so lightly our green tree waterway enclosure,
just as a human caresses his truly beloved’s cheeks, so so softly,
the fog sitting on top of the treetops, kissing, allowing that,
but no more,as the day is now only hours young,
disallowing mature sunset romance

close enough to touch, the fallen branches that people the shoreline and I, marvel at my privilege, my history, how I came to be
witness to this moment, testifying to the luck of life, cris cross continental running from European Black Forest persecution,
Spanish inquisitors, whose auto-da-fe cris cross burnings earned them no truth, no fame,
where racism hatred made my tribe an official inferior kind,
worthy of extermination, yet, here I am surviving to be arriving
to the serenity of this goddess Columbia moment in natural embrace

but here again, at this second, still excoriated as virus-privileged,
aligned this time to the guilt of my skin colorations,
guilty genetically, in my nation of 99% immigrants,
which confuses us,
for we, our troop, victimized by quotas, ghettos, crafted laws,
once upon a time burnished, now burnt by our successes,
we asked for nothing more, fair play,
a chance to win but never by stepping on the backs of others,
are told, no, no, guilty by chance,
cause you won the oppressors color coded lottery


the sun keeps on battling, though now late afternoon,
its glare, no fair, makes me squint to see the horizon,
a thin lucent bright line, who knows how far away,
it challenges me, saying am I not the sun to everyone,
leading you to new islands, green end zones for anyone
to touch down, leading you back home to where you shelter
anyone who asks, a new horizon for anyone comes to me,
giver of words, my inspiration family history shared for anyone,
I adjudge guilty, your privilege was earned, by the exile you’ve endured and the truth of your island green privilege,
and the trees, in unison say, hallelujah selah
CharlesC Sep 2012
a day
with contrasts faded
hazy smoke from
distant forest burnings
skylight diffused..
traffic at rushhour
a monotonous din..
such muffled appearances
invited a more
exacting look..

white paint splotches
accidental decorations
to a darkened parkbench
suggests here a distant
supernova explosion..
a motorcycle pistons'
high pitch report
self identification
in the traffic din..
an airliner's orange
contrails laced the
gray cloudless sky..

then a sudden appearance
a haloed quartermoon
light enhancement
with circular glow..
yes contrasts seemed to
speak on this day
bursting the haze...
walking experiences...took a couple photos...see blogsite...
Barton D Smock Mar 2016
~

reanimation

it is nothing

compared
to the sobbing
of worms

~

outhouse

the bathtub is full of ****

it wants to be
an egg

~

frogsong

depression

decorates
a bird

~

miracle

a bunk-bed for sister’s hair
Barton D Smock Jun 2014
:church

entering the body after a stroke


:milk

my shadow made of grass


:cow

dumbly regarding another’s art


-


:radio

grandpa cursing outside then inside the barn


:distance

two babies on their backs, one a boy and one a boy, their mother
says bingo


:pyramid scheme

I am sleeping
on you, on your
insomnia


:protest

a man without sin and his two ******* birds


:unison

proving
your half
is also

unicorn


:crow

we don’t use the crow


-


:infatuation

what a knee has for its other


:owl

pillow for which the night has long been looking


:yawn

moaning
into mother
my father’s

     swimmer’s
ear


:high-dive

or a very private room


-


:***

two
as if they fear
a third


:body language

writing about yourself with others


:the future

every now and then
one is given
now and then


:suicide

might I record
this moment?


-


:abortion

beneath the highest pop fly on record


:divination

found myself alone in a ******* *******


:epitaph

easier if I imagine you are clothed


:angels

any mystique
surrounding
  a small town
   search party


:blood

this ******* from the reader of my palm


-


:terrorism

trading
back and forth
the dead
before they are
and after


:pilgrimage

one’s ****** recovery of a native alienation


:novitiate

I know my mother by the back of her hand


:drone

I don’t believe
in being
attacked


-


:chthonic

a prayer asking god to brush your teeth

Your blue eyes are so  inviting;
Really both are captivating;
on  this Valentine romantic day !
It depicts a hunger for my lust;
And me too offering the best;
on this Valentine celestial hours !
Love has its own powers;
It is neither imposing
nor insisting for anything
on this Valentine glorious turning !
But true understanding
And offering and submitting
on this Valentine lovely burning....


*
In remembrance of
14th February, 2013 
 St. Valentine's Day
By
Williamsji Maveli
williamsji@yahoo.com
www.williamsji.com

Sam Oliver Jun 2010
It's inhuman to ignore emotion,
But why am I expected to have none?

Not expected to love,
Not expected to cry,
Not expected to care about other people.

Isn't that inhumane?

Isn't that wrong,
To see just a tool,
A means to meet your ends?
An instrument to throw away or lend
As soon as you have no use?

Yet no-one cares about emotion,
The yearnings of my heart,
The burnings of my soul,
And over that,
I have no control.

I can't change a thing on my own,
So could I have your efforts on loan?
You know I'm good for it,
It's a proven fact.

All I've done my whole life
Is pay people back for nothing.
So think what I'd do
To be treated human for once?
Hank Roberts Dec 2011
She flies solo, glides freely floats softly
grace of that of a lonely hunter's dream. She can look
you in the eye and take you by surprise or she'll turn
you into Lot's wife.

She can walk, so slow or so fast, make anything
appear or vanish from path.  It's this that won't disintegrate,
but the gallows wait, they know the burnings won't last
but killing for justice won't ever pass.

Knock 'em dead the catalogue said, it's this you won't regret.  
It's not my eyes that are wrong for seeing, but the hands,
enable, events that were had. I turn back to look for her soft hands,
I turned back on her and now I'm a pillar of salt.

I sat there still and wake, couldn't breath, couldn't talk
but I could listen.  I heard it all.  I heard the stories. I heard things short and long.
I'm the pillars point of the world, people are mad, the pillars of marble
are left to toil and rot.

                                                      II
Feverous snakes coil and twist
While, soothing Medusa calls. Don’t You dare take a glance of horror or
Beware—
You’ll be hard as stone— blood diamonds

Her bed is snakes, drapes of spider webs, stone tile made from shale,
Slimy, slippy, scaled. Sticky.
Dark shadows and empty silhouettes— gaze
Wait, what’s just around that corner?

I hear her calling, my limbs—flesh
Not stone! Promiscuous queen,
*******, dark not pale, I’ll gouge my eyes before I’m caught dead
in your horrid bliss.

Her blood now fills the coral , of the red sea. So mystique and mastery
Of colors. All created from this
Hideous *****.
Barton D Smock Mar 2016
~

ideation

the prayerful **** continues beneath the unfinished oven psalm

~

retrospective

dollhouse
fly-paper

~

newbie

­corpse bread

~
Barton D Smock Mar 2016
~

paint

the heels
of saint
fetus

~

robot

sometimes when my knees touch

~

punishment

our mouths could turn food
into soap

~
MOTV Nov 2015
The raging ram roaming realms
A bittersweet tale if I say so myself

That ***** got a demon's tail
  it ain't good for your health

That dude uses it as a flail
prevail is what is exhaled

That young ram spits heat

Aint talking about rapping
I speak literally

That young ram eyes red

But he ain't high
Stony past burning hooves

He smoky,
but it ain't the cannabis smell or shroud
It's the smell of hell

The young ram got a plan yeah to hustle

The young ram got a plan realm rustle

The young ram glides from land

to land to land

to empower some sort of man

or men or man

and I don't understand about this young lamb

he got a demon in his face
and he goes against the grain of sand

maiming himself just for the wealth

owning everything
coming out from stealth

the burning ram says retreat
or don't...
I eat I am elite

the burning ram says hold still
ill ****
a mill
the burning ram finds your mam
put it in her ****
hotter than the slavery of sam

the burning ram was foreseen by am.

the plan?

the men have ran, words spoken in a tablet somewhere.

Desolation, we are bare,
the ram looks at us in disgust
we are the crust on the earth
core exploding opening doors
the ram will be adored
pity because it represents disorder,
chaos, chaos,
killing says it once and the days are hazing
the ram bending the realm of man
mentally what a riot.

In the end, the ram is lost in the density of infinity.

An exploding croft farmed for human thought.

Far out
Fantasy
Mars droughts
Deseret land

Bars found
Feathered fans
of flames burnings lands
rays coming from the skies

Imploding,
Arising
Exploding
Mantle
Core
Arising
Like a
Titanic
Phoenix
Coming alive

Wicked eyes
Burning song
Live long
Live long

Another cycle
Ressurection
Recurring
Spirit in a dream
Molded by the first impression

Aroma tremendous
Weighs heavy on the pretentious
Live and learn and get burned

Breaking crust, core spewing lava as I arise

Hypnotised by my flow, I smirk when they say I am going to die

**** em now eat em later, chronic masturbater

Dilated eyes, 3 in which I don't mind, I own the mind I own the mind

Shove a trident down her spine and blow herb till the pine grime off here behind

Put the pedal to the extreme for miles on end gotta make my ends gotta make my ends till the end my friend oh friend oh
Mitchell Apr 2012
In carnage memories mourn their loved ones
Rage boils over the top of the cooking ***
And genocide fits only the ideologies mad men

People
Are not
Good
To each other

We
Create policies
Supporting a mind
So twisted
So dark
So far gone

The only
Light to
Reach it is

A spark from
A gun of
A Revolution

How did humanity grow so weak
To turn so quickly to hate through violence?

How does humanity not see in the
Flickering eyes of the dead our communion?

How does humanity not feel the screams
That echo silently below our trembling feet?

The past
Is now present

The fight
Has a new face

Bullets are
Pixilated
Transformed
Ordered &
Backordered

On sale at
Half - Price
When bought
In Bulk

There is no message
That has not yet
Been said

There have been marches,
Rallies, songs, poems,
Dances, deaths, burnings, battles,
Readings, money making, publishing,
Shooting, knifing, bleeding, gouging,
And destroying all in the name
Of the message

And as the naked children
Of Eden weep -

Their home once flourishing,
Flagrant, lined with grass speckled
With crystalline dew -

Smells now of smoldering
Grey plumes of poisonous maroons

We,
We humanity,

Show no shame
In our pressed suits
Or clear magazines or golf carts
Or gold plated teeth

We have forgotten
Humanity

For the pleasure
Of our own

Selfishness stinks
Like diamonds
And fresh bread and
Nail Polish

Time
Does not
Care for
Us

Yet we
Care so deeply
For It

Time cares for us
Like we care
For the ant

Or the fly who buzzes
And we swat away
Without hint of an emotion

The wind blows
As the first rain of
Spring starts to sprinkle
On the cobble stones
Of a city spared
For their branded cowardice

The eyes blink
The clouds dissolve
The moon cracks for

One last time

As the
Fading music

In a
Near-by cafe

Comes to a dry
Empty

Silence
Timothy Roesch Jan 2014
Beware the fleeting expressions of Man!
Allah’who Akbar is easier to shout than
an explicit examination of rights and wrongs
Honor!  shouts the honorless;  Shout!  Sings the songs

A Fire of Men and Stones!
stoked by honor and broken bones
fleeting the expression upon the face
under the blood tears leave no trace.

Beware the sleeting excoriations of Men!
In the name of god is so easy to sing, then
the stonings and the burnings can begin.
Love! Shouts the loveless; hating the sinner, loving the sin

A Fire of Men and Stones!
Lovingly born by staring crones!
Fleeing the expression upon the face!
Gaining Pride!  Losing the Race.

“Please God help me,” the sinner begs.
Shaitan smiles and stirs the dregs.
The soul of Man spits down like stones
thrown without mercy at mercy overthrown.

A Fire of Men and Stones!
The flames a’crackle; the ground, she groans.
Fleeting, the expression, ‘Please save me!’
Shaitan names the mob; mommy.

Men and Stones afire!
Souls burn bright upon the funeral pyre!
But not as bright as truth overthrown
Virgins tremble!  ****** groan!

“Please God!  Are you there?”
Nothing answers, not even the air
that rises high in a silent sneer
from the pyre that draws all so near.

Pray not for men; they will not hear or atone
for they are the fire of Men and Stone.
Karijinbba Sep 2020
So tired of this skin color hair
creed social status divisions
malice biggotry greedy
Shady manners
The haves and have nots
worldwide strangeness!
The massive mile nature burnings
mysterious volcanic eruptions.
popping up
glacial s melting crumbling
This masked face
pandemic new world order
in the midst of it all!

O how I long
to take my loved ones
a few trustworthy friends
and fly out this ugly cris-cross
chemtrail sky covering all stars
killing natural cloud's
formations
on matrix mother Earth's
slippery slopes
ever closer to the sun

Earth's being kissed
by Mercury and Venus
no courageous ruller
to tell us the end's truth
that we must fly out
soon to boldy go
out to the stars.
~~~~~~~
By:Karijinbba
Copy Rights apply.
09-23-2020
Overwhelmed Nov 2013
it feels like years
but it was just
hours ago
when I finally let the flame
burning in the pit
of my soul
free for the first time
for all to see
and I screamed
for the first time
for all to hear

smoke billowed from my mouth
and as they
looked in and saw
my throat all scars and burns
they were horrified
and shocked
at how bad
I had let it get

they tried to put it out
but they couldn’t know
that it had been put out
for a long while now
that the black clouds were all a shadow
of what had once been an all-consuming fire
that burned silently behind my eyes
charring everything that passed through
them before I could ever even know
if it was beautiful or not

but this could have all happened
to someone else with the same burnings
that go unnoticed, unfelt by most
because that’s how I remember it
the man talking on the telephone
was not me
and the world I exposed myself to
was not her

so was the fire revealed?
is it still a pile of ash?
are the embers put out?
am I finally free?

I could not tell you
even if I listened
very, very
closely
Jessica Hughes Jan 2011
O' lovely night, serene and crisp
Follow the moon full to its lead
Hear the wolves howl for him
The acute wanders in my heart

Send him urgency before I change
From the shreds of breathless borrowed
Shall he grace me gorgeous
His flower of precious burnings

O' lovely night, the stars sparkle brighter
It bellows our song betwixt lyrics spring
As dewy ears repose to a beckoning bloom
There the chanting of soprano whispers

As our sound bound us found
As our sound be loose forever
As we high pitch in desire always
©2010-2011  
copyright.gov
John B Sep 2015
Blinded by big brother's burnings

Bummed about all bummed out

Blithering babblences at brothers

Burying closet bone sets

Bleeding pink, Bonaparte

**** smoke medium scrying wind waves

Bark at the moon like a ****** green knave

Battle calls but no battle found

Brake the silence, breath the ground
Kira Nov 2013
Driving alone at dusk
on what they see as roads,
roads that take them far.
I see the gravel beneath,
and my pebbles soaring far

Desolate benches they see,
where I see sunny ghosts,
ghosts still having a bash.
For they own the benches now
just like they always have

Ritzy glass shops,
where once, the setting sun
meant end of days play,
and it used to break hearts.
That streetlight across the ground,
where lie the forlorn shards

Busy cross roads,
coz the glass runs out of sand
Only once had it stopped,
my beats had counted seconds,
and I had held her little hand

New lives and new faces,
new past and its traces
New loves and their journeys,
new desires and their burnings
They sing these songs truly
but only I know,
and stars vouch for me,
how the tunes used to be

Nothing so fragrant,
nothing so nostalgic,
not even the love of hers
Call me a timeless poet
if I can cast my timeless childhood,
into half so timeless words
Visiting my hometown after long time
Timothy Roesch Feb 2014
Beware the fleeting expressions of Man!
Allah’who Akbar is easier to shout than
an explicit examination of rights and wrongs

Honor!  shouts the honorless;  Shout!  Sings the songs

A Fire of Men and Stones!
stoked by honor and broken bones
fleeting the expression upon the face
under the blood, tears leave no trace.

Beware the sleeting excoriations of Men!
In the name of god is so easy to sing, then
the stonings and the burnings can begin.

Love! Shouts the loveless; hating the sinner, loving the sin

A Fire of Men and Stones!
Lovingly born by staring crones!
Fleeing the expression upon the face!
Gaining Pride!  Losing the Race.

“Please God help me,” the sinner begs.
Shaitan smiles and stirs the dregs.
The soul of Man spits down like stones
thrown without mercy at mercy overthrown.

A Fire of Men and Stones!
The flames a’crackle; the ground, she groans.
Fleeting, the expression, ‘Please save me!’
Shaitan names the mob; mommy.

Men and Stones afire!
Souls burn bright upon the funeral pyre!
But not as bright as truth overthrown
Virgins tremble!  ****** groan!

“Please God!  Are you there?”
Nothing answers, not even the air
that rises high in a silent sneer
from the pyre that draws all so near.

Pray not for men; they will not hear or atone
for they are the fire of Men and Stone.
Max Neumann Sep 2020
3600 seconds, golden rich kids among bottle
scavengers, everybody hustlin', revenge?
the lights of society don't shine bright on them
collected bottles for a meal, irrelevant sunsets

the beauty of life decreased, dependency diaries
let lights loosely shine on these teenage giants
memories are opening up like red clouds, floating
in a time lapse, they will remember, in pride

honor and dignity, the one who splits the ocean
creates a shelter for the brothers and sisters
reckoner: burnings sandstorms, playful twisters
the one who smoothens a path to golem land

honey, milk and fruits, get rid of urban metal
come to us, be with us and stay with us
infinite loopholes, adults, kids and groups
the holy swoosh of a curl, your healing, stay

as you are walking through the ocean
as your brothers and sisters are with you
whiteblue words, you catch sentences like air
as you become a part of golem land

of us
Golemland for everybody; for a better way of life.
Barton D Smock Oct 2015
[the omens]

to the rabbit
he can’t bring himself
to shoot
in the foot
the boy
with a sore thumb

whose mother
wrote the book
on book
burnings, whose father
baptized
a scarecrow
as scarce

crow

whispers

in hindsight
of course
the omens
are coming

[you]

are now’s
nostalgia


[bridge]

god has gathered the disabled to make his case against reincarnation

-

unable to sleep, I become an alcoholic

-

I prefer
like my father
my insects

noncommittal

-

insomnia is the insect my scar becomes

-

noggin, mouth-hole, skinflick

-

a ghost
when I study
angels


[wolf, wolf, god]

her plane is in the air.  she is showing late signs of believing she’s left an octopus in the oven.  the man she is with knows nothing about paper.  on the ground, in awe of the bee stings on a sister’s bare back, a brother carries orphanhood to term.  everything I touch belongs to the same alarm clock.    


[bygone]

I started smoking in my early thirties because I missed my brothers.  because a train is the only thing I can act like I’ve seen before.  because a claw opened and a child dropped.  because unhurt the child was a girl and injured it was a boy made of being touched.  because giant birds were ****** to give other people rain.  because all hail, as all do, location.  because riot then riot envy.  because bright spot became a cloth in a police car.  because I can’t sleep and couldn’t without thinking of sleep as a copy of a copy.  because lost the baby wasn’t getting any younger.  because nightlight and tadpole, mom and dad.


[nigh]

don’t talk to babies. write. write to be the first one there. the frostbitten woman ******* her thumb has all her teeth. walk once a week into the wrong bathroom. worry. bump around the house at night, noisemaker. a depressed elephant in a walrus graveyard. pull. pull from your habit forming past. be the bomb god’s yet to wear. surround with others the baseball bat signed by the last woman to mourn sleeping beauty. open your mouth then look at your son. call it photography. if spotted, be a monster.

[indwell]*

I either have to **** my father or keep loving him.  a friend of my brother’s says she can get me cigarettes, a knife, and two cans of beer.  says her own father was a doctor up until he delivered a baby with a serial number tattooed on its arm.  she doesn’t know what her father does now.  her mother is in the dark.  her mother is obsessed with the three the disciple lied to.  people want me to back up but a man is never the same sadness.  define people.    

~          

from *Drone & Chickenhouse

84 pages, poems, Barton Smock, Oct 2015, 6.00

http://www.lulu.com/shop/barton-smock/drone-chickenhouse/paperback/product-22390933.html
There are many things
That burn
And are not fuels.

Curiosity burns
When we are in doubt,
Minds burn
With ideas that are to big for them,
Even coldness burn:
We freeze, and it burns,
When we miss
The velvet touch
In our souls.

Most of all,
Forgetfulness burns
For, more than exist,
We want to be memories.
Pyrrha Oct 2018
I am relinquishing my fears today
No longer shall I be too afraid to be who I am
I am not ashamed of my faith
I shouldn't hide behind a decade of prosecution
We've moved past the burnings and the witch hunts
Let them come at me with their torches and pitchforks

It isn't my gods and goddesses who seeks the path of destruction
Aditi Jul 2017
.
Maybe it was not you, maybe it was me
Setting bridges ablaze
Before crossing
And trying to find  out
What was there on the other side

I'm sorry. I'm sorry you were left there on the other side. If I had only known, if I had only seen, maybe we both would not have been smothered in the fire I had kindled. I swear it was only meant for me.. It's really funny how the fire I had hoped would destroy me just burnt me, it was that one look of anguish in your eyes that reduced me to ashes. Too bad. I'd have taken hundred of those burnings to take away your pain away. Pain that I had unintentionally carved into your flesh.


Maybe I should have said something, maybe you would not have heard it anyway,
But now these silences have become the crime scenes as well as the witnesses*

It's kinda ironical how you've always been the one to  get me down on my knees to pray and the one that had me concluding that both of us had fallen out of God's grace long before we were born. Lucifers in our own hell. Aching from the loss of what we could  have been.

Maybe I should have asked, maybe you should have stayed,
Maybe then we would have something in common other than our parents,
And our disappointments.


I wonder if you too have just gone through your life, uncaring, and, uninterested as if you were stuck in someone else's dream. I wonder which no. Of disappointment it was after which we decided that there was nothing to be salvaged. Not even us. Esp not us. We have gone so long without talking that yesterday when I opened my mouth, no words came out. Whenever I look at us, I wonder if cremation is just going to be a formality? I wonder if they know why I talk so much because I'm afraid if I stop I'd hear the unwanted sounds telling me that I did not talk you out of ruining yourself. I did not say a word, probably, the only time when my words held any significance and I'm sorry, my baby brother. I'm sorry.


Maybe If I had tried harder, maybe if you had not resisted longer
Then maybe we would not be soaked into this rain, permanently
The sky weeping silent poetry that only you and I can feel.

I never played with you. I tried yesterday to get you to but it was too late I guess. You remained seated in the corner of the balcony. I wonder what it is that you see that is interesting enough to keep you looking but not enough to go out and feel it. I wish I could tell you that is how I feel sometimes too. But I just don't know how to. So I stand there awkwardly in the sidelines. I laugh mirthless. Sidelines. That's where I have always been when it came to you. Have not I? I see our neighbor look at us. I wonder if they call it sweet, or, love? Me? I don't dare call it anything.
Barton D Smock Mar 2016
BURNINGS

~

church

entering the body after a stroke

~

milk

my shadow made of grass

~

cow

dumbly regarding another’s art

-

radio

grandpa cursing outside
then inside
the barn

~

crow

we don’t use the crow

~

owl

pillow for which the night has long been looking

~

yawn

moaning
into mother
my father’s

swimmer’s
ear

~

high-dive

or a very private room

~

***

two
as if they fear
a third

~

suicide

might I record
this moment?

~

divination

found alone in a ******* *******

~

angels

mystique
that surrounds
a small town
search party

~

blood

******* from the reader of my palm

~

drone

I don’t believe
in being
attacked

~

chthonic

a prayer asking god to brush your teeth
Katira Niquidet Apr 2017
My outsides have become dried and pale
From the burnings hands stemming from insincere arms.
They had promises of lovely embrace
Flowing through outstanding veins.
Blood that burns through your flesh to the surface
Stroking mine with corrosive caresses.
It's tingle transforms to dolorous, to burn.
It scars me yellow.
My insides are green still, but

Brazing endures.
Olivia Kent Oct 2014
A stunning morning.
Sunshine decking the glory filled lawn.
Night's swept away on the brush of a fox.

Lamenting my flowers.
They have passed.
A natural tragedy.
They have withered and died.
Disappeared, in what seemed like the blink of an eye.
They shall be retained.
Deep in the brain.
The brain of the lady.
Work is bereft.

Final recollection, that all things must pass.
Their beauty shall not be ashes,but scrunched up dry dust.
I shall find a spot in the garden.
Where I shall lay memories of my friends to rest.
And hence I explain my flowers away.
So precious were these flowers.
Burnings' so final you know.
Once they were beauteous.
Once so was I.
A bouquet of beauty.
Sadly they've died.
True beauty lives in the beholders eye.
(c) Livvi
I was given an amazing bouquet of flowers when I left my job, they have just died...they were beautiful. Full of thoughts of the colleagues I left behind!
jeffrey robin Nov 2015
.



and today

                                                   ( amid the burnings )

• •                                                            

• •


the wild free insanity


The joy of unmuted callous indifference

The harsh knife

The fake love


••


We used to lynch black people here

Now we simply let policemen shoot them

We are becoming civilized

#

Little joey joined the army


Go joey ! Go !

)(

The moon shines brightly over the fields



Come home joey !  Please come home !



.
Bolts and matches.
No match for bolts and matches.
A star under the burnings of the floor.
Black bold face tea.
Trim the hands.
A boat for small and easy jobs.

Somehere I run and somewhere I move.

Never a knew question.
Or be them known.

On colorful rocks.
Rocks colored with your face.
Rocks before color and these are again.
Rocks believe the promises.

Rocks do not move for Heaven.
Crumbling, a tight holding.



Maybe something stranger and a something much more than this.

This has been your still birth.

You need not be more.

Retry and compute and restore and believe.

Love just won't know.
I've tried the two year old plan.

It is age now.
Time moving and the stillness of completion.

By your cycle and by your side.

My
mouth
bleeds.

My mouth crumbles from heat.
& when I sleep at night, my window opens.

Winter creeps in & steals the warmth of your memory.

Smothering only hope & rewriting my repose,

My hollow form, now torn, twisted.

I am man again.

All the same.

I'm no thread scarring your dreams.

Sensibly I seek strength.

& hover towards that lonesome window.

& bolt it's cold steel latch.

& stumble.

Through the frosted pane.

Into deep liquid night, my eyes close.
Tragedy.
Barton D Smock Aug 2015
to the rabbit
he can’t bring himself
to shoot
in the foot
the boy
with a sore thumb

whose mother
wrote the book
on book
burnings, whose father
baptized
a scarecrow
as scarce

crow

whispers

in hindsight
of course
the omens
are coming

— The End —