On the cold solstice
the velvet magnet
of Luna's magic
pulls

quietly urges

whispering
gentle spells
into dreamy ears

compelling
her lover
to rise
quixotically
coaxing
him from
the warm sleep
of winters
first night slumber

she summons
a willing lover
inviting him
to follow
her stark
alluring light
illuminating
the lonely blackness
of a bleak universe

her
seductive powers
transcends distances of
a thousand solstices

her
resounding light
a sure mark
braces any weakness
emboldens desire
guiding the bidden
to unforeseen
destinations

standing
in your presence
my face is flush
reflected by your
resplendent light

my heart
broiled
by your
vexing
radiance

the roiling tide
of a midnight reverie
ebbs
as my
earthen shadow
begins to pass
over your
indelible
whiteness

I witness
my dark countenance
eclipse your light

defiling you
fearing
to forever
mark your
effervescent silver
with the baseness of me

without shame
your smile
allays my fear

you understand
you anticipated
the expression
of my
coy reticence

a sweet chant
sings
unencumbered
reveries
gently
reassures
you've danced
through many
moonlit nights
with eager lovers
only to return again
in virginal whiteness
across the
endless cycles
of time

released
relieved
abandoning
all restraint
now
I
summon you

my blackness
your whiteness
breeds a
sensuous
orange
sweeter
then an
open mango

she rules the sky
a celestial monarch
forcing Mars into
a sheepish retreat
commanding
mighty Orion
to sheave his sword
while
Venus
seethes
with envy

my form
begins to swallow
your lines
and
soft curves

my blackness
disappears
into
inviting cracks

falling into
dark creases
the soft billows
sweet mounds
voluptuous craters
gay playgrounds
for my mouth
mysterious hillocks
eagerly explored
with hands and
limbered fingers

a quixotic Eros
the scent of spice
swells in my head

everything
enveloped
like a
holy ghost
playfully gaming
hide and seek
radiantly moving
through
darkened canopies
of a lush forest

nostrils fill
with
tang of spice
a scent
of Caribe

face buried
in thick tresses
of maddening blackness

becoming unhinged
by eyes speaking
a thousand languages
as lips whisper
joyous whimpers

a silent kiss
of an orange lit night
writhing bodies
splayed together

ravenous tendrils
shape sloping
cloud pillows

quivering lips
unveil smiles of
alabaster pearls

mocha darkness
sambas through
the night

she exhales
her lovers name

Luna bathes
her cinnamon curves
in delicious
mango light
offers generous
dollops
of ******

peeking
baying
drifting
I cast off
onto a sea
of lucid dreams

drinking from
a dark aureole
as the tresses
of her
sweetened nest
moistened my member
in a sacred communion
to a hungry lovers mouth

her dancers legs
slim, supple
unbounded
and open
sweet to taste
smooth
so soft
to touch

the fullness
of our rumba
se los tango
con cha cha cha

light steps
close caress
kinetic commotion
wild laughter
fills the sails
of bold schooners

Luna's smile
commands
the seas
to heave

un poco loco
ola de feliz
los hablamos
un contrara
la estas
la esta

the lavender sky
of the mornings
twilight
inspire
Meadowlarks
to herald
the emerging day

still
drunkenly swigging
loves nectar
sleep creeps closer

confessing
small regrets
she fell
victim
to passion again

Luna
comes back
to her lover
pets his chest
with delicate fingers

in a voice
as light as air
she sings
a poem
into his ear
of passionate nights
beauteous art
longing to express
heartfelt truths

The mango consumed
Luna's whiteness returns

my shadow recedes
into inconsequential
nothingness

naked
I stood
sadly witnessing
the dark horizon
overtaking
my fleeing lover
swallowing her
in tiny bits
as morning drops
a final veil
over the face
of a now
vanished love

Music Selection
Grant Green, Moon River

jbm
Oakland
1/19/11

i was reborn, like a phoenix
but without all the glory.
i didn't set the hospital on fire; i struggled  
to pull myself from the ashes
of a former prodigy,
one entwined with madness
in all the right ways
laced with misery like a noir heroine,
so sexily depressing-
whereas now i am just empty

i did not emerge unscathed, no,
not like the fledgling, i
am covered in scars and faultlines from where
the sorrow tried rip itself
from my sorry body
and the crimson glue holding me together
replenishes itself more diluted each time

before i died
i swung through technicolor
episodes of scarlet, rose,
ecstatic white, and the
sapphire blue to haunt my dreams
waking and at night
but the color leached away,
the antiseptic began to pervade, refilled my veins
and purged me of everything but grey.

before my death,
i reigned over the darkness, banished it
when it did not suit me,
manipulated reason, lived in a waking dreamland,
in complete control of my life-
but now, when i am fragile as eggshell,
it's the only place i can hide,
a haven where i can act like the lack of light
masks an imagined vivacity and not a skeleton in flat black and white,
disguises and emboldens me,
allows me to be whole again,
to forget the borders, my limitations
indiscernable in dusk

i used to cast my own light-
now i am my own shadow
and in the dark i fumble for
what i used to be,
reconnect myself with the world
throw myself from the cliff
and hope to find my wings again

I am italicized*


We sing and we simmer
Our cosmic tumble tune
Hardly yet wholly
A place without room
Stardust dancing along side our gate
Black hole chancing just beyond our escape

If that gate can be an escape
An entrance to the unknown world
Fistful of stardust
Blow it to the wind
Let the wind be our guide
Beyond the canvas of our life
Our imagination captured beyond the horizon

Sunset washes the day clean
Brilliant peach orange blaze
Still left wondering what this all means
I am connected to you
As I am to this tree
Whole and in pieces
Full picture you see
The circle comes round
We dance to it's beat
Evolving masterpieces
Rarely repleat
Fingertips touching
Secrets yielded to soft sigh
Hoping with sore hearts
You'll always feel this high

In the circle of eternity
The known rhythm is back
In concentric circles
Frenzied steps
Spark that kindles two hearts
Blazing through the night sky
Touch of freedom
Paints the encircled world
Hearts healed with magic potion
Trust emboldens the souls
To soar higher and higher
It’s an eternity
Now, the saga shall continue

Summer's breath
is a fetid breeze
that leaves me
sweating grievously.

Dull, repetitive driving,
heat draining
all my mental energy
like a seasonal vampire
leaving me uninspired.

Enter the earthy aroma
of someone new,
a refreshing spring water
point of view
a friendly face
with feminine contours.

Though *** is not what matters,
she is novelty
in the form
of a human being.

This thick stultifying summer
becomes less of a ******
with the introduction of new variables
that pull me from
my old terrifying echoes.

A stranger with
unknown stories
emboldens
the previously bored me
to write great poetry again.

You Are . . .

the quiet place where my mind likes to rest.
the smile that inspires me to be my best.
the comfort when life’s storms around me blow.
the sunshine and fill me with your glow.
the joy that emboldens me to face the“whys?”
the heartthrob when I see the love in your eyes.
the love that makes life more than it’s ever been.
the voice that speaks “I love you” again and again.

©1998 Michael S. Davis

Love is all there is: it nurtures the weak,
and will feed the starving. it warms the soul,
emboldens and uninhibits the meek,
It takes broken pieces and makes them whole.
Love is a raft in a turbulent sea,
it’s a shield against a condemning word
and yet from it you can never be free
forever you’ll be trapped like a caged bird.

A lost love can ******* the strongest man,
or it may silence a boisterous voice.
But more often love is a helping hand
that will help guide you to each loving choice.
And when it gets tough it’s what you think of
for that above all else I will take love

Wake up, hot cauterized rot. I found emboldens embossed with the red lit colour of a forgotten world, holding onto leaflets of falsified thought, holding onto entanglements forged in the bowels of saran’s vast vessel timelessly caught in the meanderings of homer as he sweeps his vast oceans of godly oceanic tender towards the shores of a dilapidated Greece, beholden to the gods, bewildered for the rest as Achilles in all his might stumbles before the sand praising its opaque glory as crimson tides wash upon its shores

Is there a better tradition than Halloween?
When I was a child, cloaked in the velvety darkness,
The night felt like it was crackling with electricity, possibility.
Swapping candy, riding the trailer, being out late on a school night;
I realized from a young age nothing emboldens you like friends and the nighttime.

When I was a freshman in college, I saw Rocky Horror for the first time.
"Creature of the Night" rings in my ears as I
Put on makeup,
Take a swig of *****,
Place on the final touches of my costume.

Halloween becomes a blurred vision of masks, laughter, and kisses.
Locking eyes across a room,
I am more alluring as
Daisy Buchanan
Holly Golightly
A fairy
Mary Poppins
Alice in Wonderland.
They're all cute, animated, familiar, warm.

Each day after Halloween is a sickly feeling,
nausea from overindulgence
I will always be emboldened by the night.

My shell is my home away from reality
Pain the senses on me so I can ascend from worldly pleasures
My psychotic breathing is my only euphoria leaving my lips
tastes of insanity and the will to reach through reality
I relinquish control of the mundane and monotonous
so I may collide with the unknown and be the envy of fear
I am just a power who struggles with beauty and emboldens the ugly
Inside and out
somber drives the blissful inside the dreams when I am awake
with closed eyes I witness the abstract
my heart is going nowhere
stuck in a loveless bind
for once, the mind and body both want to leave
I: the consciousness that which exists in synapses within a singular being
must go to bed

And they say when it rains, it pours.
But for me, any rain would do.
You see, alone am I in this drought.
With lonely thoughts of you.

With lonely thoughts of you,
As I stare beyond the pane.
Behind the pain, sorrowed eyes
As drops dance out in the rain

As drops dance out in the rain,
An empty ache swirls within.
The sky emboldens with a boom,
For thoughts are all they've been.

For thoughts are all they've been.
Nothing more, and nothing less.
I long to be out in the rain,
To this fear, I must confess.

To this fear, I must confess.
As I stare on, into the sky.
An empty heart still boldly beats.
Without much reason why.

Without much reason why,
No knock upon my door.
Just the sounds of summer rain.
How I long for something more.

How I long for something more.
If only someone could see.
If the storms could only pass,
And let the sun shine down on me.

Let the sun shine down on me,
For warmth could give me light.
And soften my cindered soul.
In hearts, happiness ignites.

A gentle breeze hardens me
& just a whisper emboldens me
& a single kiss rattles me
& your tender warm touch excites me
& you,
you,
only you,
you take me
to a place
beyond
the concept of love.

Picking up the internal slack
and bring about an inward tension
that emboldens for one to face the day
and the prospects of oncoming ones.
Where wet cheeks, are visible cues
of flipping calendars, leaf upon leaf:
existing surrenders
and like a sparkled after-rain,
brings a moist crystality
that fills in the cracks
and mends the broken places.

These last few days, until the moment I see you,
will be quite torturous, yet I am confident I will see it through.
Because I know waiting these few remaining days and hours
will be nothing when I finally lay my eyes on you, my beautiful flower.
When I see you in the flesh and hold you in my embrace,
my heart will glimmer with joy as I nuzzle your gorgeous face.
The woman who awoke old and new passions within me,
and brought forth a love I'm glad to show for all to see.
So, Witty Kitty, Honey Bunny, Darling and dearest Cristi,
I am certain the day we part, that my eyes will be truly misty.
Though this scene has yet to come to pass,
I cannot help but imagine it when I cherish such a wonderful lass,
such as yourself who emboldens me to better man;
and with you behind me, I surely know I can.
I can feel it deep within the recesses of my soul,
that my path through the future is clear now,
to hold you, grow with you, adore you, and love you will forever be my goal.

Love's Glass.

Brimming with tender touches prepared is our love-cup.
Thirst will quench deeper now golden nectar runs clear.
Not to waste any in sips I intend to tip love's glass up.
Swallowing passion to dregs will get rid of felt fear.
A satisfied palate ensures heady freedom is near.

Love never tastes bitter taken eagerly, appetite's draught
Refreshes the soul for absorbed love's wine emboldens.
Gently sweetened I feel ready for honeyed love-crafts.
Tasting I imbibe ambrosial amour as need takes hold.
Drunk to the full I embrace the life love will control

What you did not know
was the resilience
of tulips.

The riots start
in colors, earnestly. A violent
outburst of the theme of surrender
before dawn.

You kiss the irises,
blue, violet and crimson
for nominalism.

The vision emboldens―
the wounds, the slit throats―
to come again for guillotine.

A sliding blade
with promise to ****,
will not move.

With  so  many  people  in  this
world I'm confident  in saying,
"If  you  connect with  someone
on a soul  level, you don't take
them for granted." My soul remembered
her,  my   heart   connected me  
with  her and she emboldens
my soul to accept the mystery
of her love.

Our  souls  speak a language that
is beyond human understanding,
a connection so rare the universe
won't let us part. You can make
detours with your mind but you
can't distract the truth from your heart.

The  thought  of  never  crossing
your path again is too enormous
to  bare,  so  for  now  I'll  make
dreams in my heart and remind
myself to go and sit and remember
them  every  once  in  awhile,
remembering that the bravest of
souls are those who choose love
over and over.

And kindness is a simple way to
tell another's struggling soul that
there is love to be found in this world.
                                                          ­                                 Jon York   2020

By: Cedric McClester

Every woman who comes forward
Needs to be heard
Although their silence
Might be what’s preferred
By the men who take advantage
Though it rarely occurs
That they might clap back
Despite denials and slurs

Every woman who comes forward
Whatever the time
Has every right to report
A long-ago crime
She’s still entitled to
Drop a dime
In an effort to unmask
The unrepentant slime

Every woman who comes forward
Should be listened to
Although that’s what some men
Are reluctant to do
Let’s face it some men
Are missing a *****
And their behavior
Is the only clue

Every woman who comes forward
Emboldens another
Who wouldn’t be talking
If not for the other
It can be scary
For a certain kind of brother
When faced with the bad news
That he’d like to smother
















Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2017.  All rights reserved.

“In the silence”

When you find that you are not alone,
do you feel a bit more than yourself
such that whoever shares with you
need not be physically with you,
because they somehow are,
inexplicably and truly?
that their revelation
begets relevance
in turn, energy...
in turn, mass...
more You?

I would suggest
you weren’t alone
in those dark times...
that the one who waited
always waited… unaware
of what they would become
when someone reached out
haltingly, doubtingly, anxiously
to taunt, if slightly, a feared reality.
Each of us waits unaware just outside
a sphere of another’s painful incredulity.

Might we all take just a moment to listen
to the thrumming static for voices?
searching, uncertain yet open to
possibilities of union, of hope?
As hearing one emboldens,
what of hearing yet more?
Might connections fortify
or multiply in ways
not yet known
by trusting(!)
in Fear?

That power is
ripe for mining but
intentionally avoided,
for we see it as unknown.
I say we should craft it into
weaponry… its own demise,
as it’s hold on anyone is in fact
lesser than our collective desires
to connect, to share, to live unalone.
It is time we were no longer I and I and I.
We, in the silence, are together… always.

The very thought of her,
Ensnares and emboldens,
This rigid being of mine.
There, she lurks,
On the corners of a blessed smile,
Amongst the liveliness of a bustling street on a Sunday market,
Felt, by the breezing embrace of the sea through its gentle tides,
Within the exact glimmer of infatuation that encapsulates one’s eyes.

Gratitude suffuses me today
at prospect to plumb the depths
of a fledgling friendship
(respecting fidelity to wife)
even one bound
within the parameters of cyberspace,
I feel courtesy your amazing grace
figuratively stitching omnipotent binding
with virtual satin and lace
proceeding cautiously to experience
belonging to human rat race.

Night and day, a thrashing
like an invisible whiptail
surge van hail,
doth swell me *****
excruciatingly, doggedly blackmail
capriciously be-numbingly,
aggravatingly assail
mine conscience in
what paltry pale
capacity of this gamboling male,
I can "pay forward,"

whatever means shale
be moost apropos avail
to offset bewail
ling (internal psyche doth ale
hankering) against utter
lifetime (mine) peppered
with emotional, physical
and social destitution
bereft, viz fail
ling to maximize inspiration
reverberating as vibrant detail

lacking even justa minimum
desire to live
(visa vis no way
discover ring, nope nar even
"FAKE" king minuscule appeasement
of my body, mind,
and spirit triage during)
hell...shove (shelve) aside
such gloriously noble benighted role,
amidst upending folktale
re: King Arthur and His Knights

of the Round Table
futilely searching for holy grail,
where steadfast conviction
emboldens this heart and hale
spirited mindful,
sincere hard drive spurs
(neigh saying horse
sense of mine),
where ambition saddled
to air (dan sing) quailing,
yen propelling (yours truly),

with sincere humanitarian,
(i.e. blood driven)
philanthropic spiritual zeal,
I tried to unveil,
this reasonably rhyming thumbnail
sketch poetically versatile
within this spurious verse despite
any trials undermining travail
rather mine heart felt genuine
motive fueled by impetus
to contribute within e kale

logical, fizzy hollow gee, humanity,
with integrity, magnanimity,
and quality fervency,
while still adept, adroit,
agile, and alert,
(cuz America needs more lerts
to become great again)
ironically steel tougher than
nine inch rusty nails,
duh pleating ability dovetail
to bug (or wug) gee wholesale.

Adieu from Matthew Scott Harris
who tapped out this message
while holed up in his mancave
situated within Southeastern Pennsylvania.

It’s fleeting, yet it’s chased
It’s foolish, yet it is the most desired
It’s terrifying, yet it emboldens even the weakest of ants
It’s taken for granted, yet it is still yearned by the many
It is always in reach, yet it is never attainable

It is true but is it good?
Is it kind?
Our morals shackle us.
So are we truly?

My little Georgia place
Where sun & pine embrace ..
Where the windblown grass borders-
lakes of pure glass ..
Where the morning dew emboldens-
the sylvan view ..
Home of the Wilson's , the Carlisle's-
and the Kuhn's ..
Home of magenta skylines & harvest-
moons ..
Where tacit cattle work summer fields..
Where piedmont farmers toil for their yield ..

It was only six months ago
That we had an insurrection
Because a former president
Refused to believe he lost an election.

Inciting a large part of his base,
He kept repeating his dangerous lie,
Casting doubts on election results
That Congress was going to certify.

Many people want to pretend
That nothing serious happened that day.
They THINK that by ignoring it,
The whole nightmare will go away.

Gaslighting the public by making
People believe what isn't true
Further emboldens extremist groups
That Trump has given oxygen to.

Many members of Congress want
To get to the bottom of what occurred.
And yet the deniers are trying to squelch
The investigations, from what we've heard.

We need to know the facts: the whats
The whys, the whos, the hows and the wheres.
Let's get to the bottom of this
Horrifying state of affairs.

Over 500 people have been
Arrested for the part that they played
That day in storming the Capitol Building
And carrying out their disgusting crusade.

Whatever you do, do not call them
Patriots or tourists! NO!
The word "insurrectionists"
Is really much more apropos.

The more the truth is revealed, the more
We will understand, and then
We can hope that such an attack
Never ever happens again.

-by Bob B (7-6-21)

It is us
This thing we seek
That cripples the strong
And emboldens the weak

This "God" we cast
So vaguely put
This life
This purpose
This truth

Our ideas of perfection
On a name with no face
Our unifying passion
Is manifested in one "Hurrah!"

As a species we speak boundlessly what cannot be said by one man
As a universe we beguile even the most steadfast,
for we cannot hope to comprehend ourselves
And as one, we are nothing