My Heart was Torn and Broken
with Wounds all over My Skin.
She floored and kicked My Feelings.
Thus burning My spirits Within.
Alone is the Word, that I've become.
Sailing a Boat that's lost at Sea.
I loved Her more than My Life itself,
She was the whole Universe to Me.
My Nights are Long and Lonely.
With a Sun that hardly Shines.
But what good, is the Sun to Me.
When I keep sipping on Red Wines.
My Tears now keep trickling,
as Time keeps passing By.
All I need now, is a small Corner.
Where I can Sit, to Sob and Cry.

Go praise thou the Lord! It's seven o'clock!
You cannot afford to slumber ad hoc.
Five times you've hit snooze, and you've wasted an hour,
Forget your excuse, and go get in the shower.

Go praise thou the Lord! The prayerbook awaits,
its words unexplored, so get on your skates.
It stands on the shelf for the start of the day,
For Jesus himself rose up early to pray.

Go praise thou the Lord! Praise him in the morn!
You seem to be floored. You don't know you're born.
I wake you at six and you wail that you're sunk
but just try your tricks as a friar or monk!

Go praise thou the Lord! Take heed what I say:
I know you've implored today's Saturday;
No more may you lurk with alarm clock ignored;
For praising takes work, so go praise thou the Lord!

Through the laden flights of ***-stewed gulls -
Deepening in red rosaries to poltroon,
Contaminated by an urgent wish,
The sun-soaked merry bandits blew.

Each to each, and, mingling with that sweaty palm,
Dolorous eyes sad-greeted the fleeing dawn.
Pancreas then, the earth-girdled Titan swam,
Anon the rising tide to stem.

Dentist the night, repair to dance-floored beams,
And rising melodiously ever anew to pine,
Sweet ***** dreaming of her saw-toothed chemise
Saw the fine end to the upstart king.

Curtains swayed against my pearly doom
Not brightly was your plainting song
Palpitating in earthly measures anew
Or seeking once more the mighty to appease.

O David, in thy glance the silver moth did live
Long dawns. An enemy of the swordfish,
He menaced us so long. And now?
Sporadic is the demise of depth!

A silver sea, or rather a sea with a fine multitude of
silver points
Caressing my eyes like toothless counterpoint to the
stately blue.
It gave a floor to a weening being of prancing gait and
measured thighs.

She smiled.

And the sea broke and roared, as ever,
and I heard it once more.
I saw too the sky, which had sufficient blue.
  Cooled by the sea,
warmed by the setting rays and mild air, the body
luxuriated in perfect
temperature.  She did not smile, but perhaps she did..
My body, I mean.

We came away, from there, as from all places to meet
another need.
of darkness and quiet.  Foamed the elements of slaking
portions of
mysterious
substance.  Surrendered to the moving body without
real life.
  Borne along on a
stream of liquid desire residing in another's
breast.
  Relinquishing her to a
perfect nothingness like lead or caviare.
        Oh, and who awaited me?  She was imprisoned
but beautiful
and I thought
quite happy.  I don't think she even wanted to come
to me,
or so it seemed.  But she was happier too outside,
in the waning sun.
  Mainly she had been safe and free.
     And there's an end of this day, which roamed
whither it would,
for I did not attempt to chain it.  Now I flee it.

i

It took three of us to pull her out
onto steel-float-finished concrete —
where her mother; BNNZ-0031U
fell from GXA339605 —
a little black Limousin heifer
later to be Christened
IE18576-0426.
Shortened to Patch.

Like my nephew Jamie
he’ll never know dial-up.
Imagine … I lived 27 years B.FB.
(Before Facebook.)


ii

If a cow calves down successfully —
that’s no guarantee you’ll end up with a cheque —
they’re moved to the postnatal paddock.
Almost the furthest field back,
gives junior a peak at the future fields
they’ll someday graze.
Provided they live long enough.

One year, the tour had entered the 3rd Hill Field
which has 8 gates, the cow knew which one.
I was only here to open and close the gates.
So she checked her mirrors
then indicated left. Migratory.
Junior, on-the-other-hand
didn’t quite know what to do
so floored it; head-on
into un-suspecting gate.

It was like in the cartoons,
something would fall on someone’s head,
they’d walk away like an accordion.

I nearly died laughing
5000 times funnier than castrating lambs
I swear to God.


iii

They came into my world and leave
from the shed

I like to think that there word for the shed,
when translated would mean pain —
between being de-horned; castrated;
belted with sticks; stobbed with needles
and yucky medicine rammed down their throats.  
Then weaned: no more mommy from now on.

Let back out, having weathered their 1st winter.
Yearlings; grazing different field.
Their 2nd summer at grass — according to the book —
is where they’ll experience Compensatory Growth.
When the gate up to the Rock is closed,
that’s the end of the road for them.
We finish the cattle here.
Well used to gates by then.

That’s all it is really; a series of galvanised gates
opening and closing in conjunction
with a selected grazing rotation.
One cycle around 62.4 hectares.


iv

There’s only one reason
cows are moved in with the cattle —
well, yea there’s the other reason too,
but primarily —
to keep Romeo away from Juliet.

At this age, there elders are generally knackered,
probably mastitis in more than one ***.

In the Beef Book in college,
cull cows are referred to as ‘canners’
as that’s where most of them end up —
in tins of dog food.


v

It was 17 years ago, Patch ran into that gate.
I’ve seen her go from bullied springer to bully.
She’s taking a trip with the cattle today.

I wonder did she know
that IE18576-0851 was hers
from last year. I like to think so.
And everyone of her offspring,
all lived to be killed.
Only space for that in my notebook.

Mart starts at 10, it’s 8.30am
waiting for Lynsky.
All my years loading cattle,
it’s never once been raining.

And calves in fields over
contently ****.

Water nymph, you are the gentle wind
Bursting the daisy, your eyes, are bells
Of blue echinacea spiriting the light—
Echoing sound which water makes, ring
The laureled forest leaves in cathedrals
Newly sprung of pews, meadows, spark,
The dance of bees, who trace your honey
Scent in combs of ambrosia and sunshine.
The miraculous waters are floored under
Your white, lily petals of feet, your nests
Of hair are embracing tendrils of the wild
Grape, wine and sweet, long forgetfulness.
Maid of the wood, daughter to the moon;
Are you of Elysium or temptress of doom?

Water nymph, you are the gentle wind
Bursting the daisy, your eyes, are bells
Of blue echinacea spiriting the light—
Echoing sound which water makes, ring
The laureled forest leaves in cathedrals
Newly sprung of pews, meadows, spark,
The dance of bees, who trace your honey
Scent in combs of ambrosia and sunshine.
The miraculous waters are floored under
Your white, lily petals of feet, your nests
Of hair are embracing tendrils of the wild
Grape, wine and sweet, long forgetfulness.
Maid of the wood, daughter to the moon;
Are you of Elysium or temptress of doom?

Airwaves awash in the new gospel barrage:
calling forth the neighbourhood hack,
Abe Lincoln toon in towering hat,  
the corporation is coming -
will you not
collaborate my friend?

Everything good that you ever dreamed of is here:
Marbonite floored flats with self-terraced roofs;
The swankiest of cars, in imported hues;
Your arm candy drools,
now, brands, bigger brands!

All in your grasp, now, in community gates
shut safe as society decays.

Skies spitting frogs? Pestilences amass?
Listen to the Gospel according to Bane:
in the desert, smell octane. Hallelujah,
everything we make, from watches
to headscarves - your underwear is cheaper
sourced from the next so-lala-land.

Forget your sources tiny of incomes varying:
Bakers, cobblers, tinkerers, we also have
a uniform for you. Oh you rustic
tradition-bound bandy bumpkins!
Abandon your alleyways, and
welcome to the ghettos...where

What you eat, to where to retreat:
we cure everything from heartache to panache.

Wash away your sins in wonder medicines;
Waters can part, yes, see how the Pharoah
is disarmed; Big city dreams, dream
global manna beams. All that is needed for
salvation, is a little bit of classification. Are you
left-wing or right? Center-left or center-right?

The powerdrill tearing down edifices
resonating through noon. A crane arm's shadow
hovering high by the moon. Tablets from skies
now proclaim the new gospel for the land,
the airwaves are awash
of the miracle of Witwatersrand.

The corporation is coming, to a store near you:
Amen! Will you not, then, collaborate, my friend?

I could never be Raglan the  knife man
nor a slippery Thames eel.
I haven't enough apologies
that heed wings.
In the act of caprice
borne musket and grape
I floored  Thomas Avery,
Tavern proprietor
who lay cold as ecclesiastical stone,
having raptured my Ussela
in cheery Bishopsgate.

As Kenya 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.  Kenya'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 Kenya floored the gas pedal.  As she passed by the slow moving drivers weaving in and out of traffic Kenya 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 the police thought Kenya as she sped past the other drivers.  As Kenya pulled into the BNB Bank's parking lot she checked the time.
"It's 7:55am.  I made it within five minutes" said Kenya.
Kenya 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 Kenya as she walked up to the tall light skinned man.
"Hello sir how may I help you?" asked Kenya as she eyed the man up and down.
"My name is Malik Maxwell.  I would like to open a checking and a savings account" answered the tall light skinned man.
"Mr. Maxwell please follow me to my office" said Kenya.
As Kenya and Malik sat in Kenya's office filling out papers Kenya made it up in here mind that she would get to know Malik on a personal level.
After a day's work Kenya got behind the wheel of her BMW and started he drive home.  On her way home Kenya called her best friend Jewel Stonewall.
"Hello Jewel how are you?" asked Kenya with one hand on the steering wheel and the other hand holding her cellphone.
"I'm doing great Kenya.  What's up?" answered Jewel as she did one of her client's hair at her salon the Golden Scissors.
"Are we still on for Saturday?" asked Kenya.
With a confused look on her face Jewel asked
"Is the day Friday already?"
"Yeah girl what day did you think it was?" responded Kenya.
"To tell you the truth Kenya I thought the day was Thursday" said Jewel.
"No Jewel it's Friday.  I'm glad I have a friend who owns a hair salon" said Kenya.
"You better be thankful.  I'll talk with you later Kenya" said Jewel.
"Ok bye Jewel" said Kenya.
Kenya Ayanna Night 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 Stonewall her childhood friend.

written by Keith Edward Baucum

A smile and a wink, create an incredible magic, one gets floored
that's her, but not a day passes without a complaint-
about her uncomplaining nature, that seems to rub everyone
in a way wrong; without any prompt,  interpretations start to pour
she definitely lacks seriousness, frivolous or an unfeeling brute?

By nature, she can't care about anything, may be the effect of the past,
tongues waged, observers increased, each one took notes,
voluntarily held conferences, and reached a conclusion, behind her back:
"Far too removed from reality, lives in cloud cuckoo land"

Strong judgments came one after the other, every one enthusiastically joined,
in demolishing, what they thought 'The myth of equanimous mind'
(irrespective of dealing with a string of troubles and continuing bad weather)
The one, only one, who kept silence, when this buzz was going on far too long,
just smiled at the end, the playful wink that followed ruffled all feathers,
now the gang has an added burden, the power of one more to deal with.

Cute words in our conversations
exchange photos she my motivation, momentarily-- apparently the living virus I embody has signaled and I'm in need of another host I need but I know I won't --you see there's this truer quote,
you don't know what you have but I know when I grab that I need you most I'm floored when I see you pose, I'm so flawed,
but, do me this favor--
pose for my camera pose for the man you want I'll keep you as a memory,
I think my picture small will forever be and cleverly I use you,
yours
Impatiently I rush things
with no forever in sight I cite love songs give me extra credit
I'm selfish-- narcissistically I'm incredibly, guarded, she asks why,
and as my Valentine she's rewarded, temporarily,
Cause like any drug store my seasons will change and it's back to reality,
there is no bigger picture take my card and cargo with you,

In the house of the unsaid
Tears are glass beads that drop
The ***** on the bone china

Blood spittles the lips, hair
Raises the dead the cut
Rosary roils and dents

Harmony’s rumour spouts
In the sink. The clock’s twitching
Strikes a mongoosed hour.

And the scattered stations run
The rude wood splinters
As the unsaying are floored

Clouded eyes pain the glass
Outside the house, bare
Trees are leaved with ravens.

When you get there, to the frozen apple’s core,
climb the first hill that you see. Tall one,
floored in rock a-glitter, breaching the noon frost
at the center. Horizon’s white-hot gleaming.
It’s quiet here. A flock of somethings and someones has
built these lines together. Not a barn, nor cathedral either.
The beams vibrate squirrel and chickadee. Be.
Be still in the ice, and their voices will come down
to shiver your pen across a new page.

Dangerous, well travelled.
Young survivor of life’s
prisons, with little anger
or worries left.
I stopped here again,
to stay in what had
become it’s only hotel.

I walked, tinged pink.
Armed in confident
bravado among the shimagh
branded, AK47 brandishing
troops of War Lords.

To, at night, wonder if
that open roof top restaurant
survived and still served
Italian, then choose the
hotel disco and a drink.

I danced the only White,
lacking little in the rhythm
of my varied partners. When,
sudden alarm, I moved alert!

In shock, the place stopped
to stare at me unmoving,
then at  my partner laying
floored at my feet, before
shuffling away distant.

The barrel was cold -
my neck warm and damp.
Surrounding in this hush
they asked; “Why?”

I requested the return
of what was mine.
Lifted and clamped
in place, she freely
gave back my thin red
leather wallet.

My bruised partner, left
assisted! One more drink
before I too wandered
away, up to my room.

Later, the same
morning, I paid and
left Mogadishu for
the final time.

Hello midnight travel.
It has been quite a while.
I'll use this time to think and unravel.
Regain my freedom mile after mile.
Leave me here to explore alone.
How good it feels to be away from home.

Meeting you had me all excited..
To once again be reunited.
You move as I move, equally ecstatic.
Both blind to how life has it written.
Instantly the night turns dramatic.
Leaving the two of us floored and smitten.
Now our journey is delayed...

I miss you brother.

Some say we all live in a “Multiverse” –
A myriad of universes
All parallel to one another
Invisible to us
Apart from our own universe
Wondrous as it is.

So in some other universe there is
Another version of yourself,
Where you turned right at some junction
Instead of left
And had a serious accident
Instead of winning the lottery.
Or nothing much happened
Or Everything.

Even my own fertile imagination
Is floored
By the endless possibilities here.
My mind is truly boggled
Fit to explode.

For every tiny insect in our universe
Might fly right
Or left
Or not at all
To thus create another universe.

I could write an epic poem on this.
To think that somewhere out there
I may be Immortal, or a King, or Rock Star
Or even about to be Executed
If not already dead.
And you might be these things too.

Versions of ourselves might live in universes
That echo those of fiction
In worlds such as Narnia, Middle Earth
And that of Star Trek, Star Wars
And Stargate SG One
To name but a few.

Oh to have a TV Remote
Like the fictional “Sliders”
To take us from this realm
To any other of our choice.
Or a “Uniscape”:
A machine like a Tardis
Which can take us to any place
Or time
Or universe
Or Other Multiverse???

My head is aching now.
My mind explodes
Like The Universe
And The Multiverse
Or Multiverse of Multiverses.
So I’d better stop
Before this becomes an epic
And my head explodes.

But, meanwhile, in another universe
I didn’t stop!!!

Paul Butters

© PB 18\9\2023.

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 the other drivers.  As Olive Spectrum pulled into the BNB parking lot she checked the time.  "It's 7:55am.  I made it within five minutes" said Olive.  Getting out of her car Olive walked through the bank's glass doors.  As the 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.  Mmmmm yummy thought Olive as she walked up to the tall light skin man.  "Hello sir how can 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 skin 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 StoneWall.  "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 StoneWall 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 ask "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 Thursday" 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 Scissor getting her hair done and talking with Jewel StoneWall her childhood friend.
Written by Keith Edward Baucum

In the house of the unsaid
Tears are glass beads that drop
The ***** on the bone china

Blood spittles the lips, hair
Raises the dead the cut
Rosary roils and dents

Harmony’s rumour spouts
In the sink. The clock’s twitching
Strikes a mongoosed hour.

And the scattered stations run
The rude wood splinters
As the unsaying are floored

Clouded eyes pain the glass
Outside the house, bare
Trees are leaved with ravens.

This miracle.

More than once.
Stay up all night.
Troubles, worry, my closest friends.

More than once.
Stay up all night.
Reading your poems.
Wondering.
Why bother.

New names, millions.
Endless, a beach.
Talent that mocks me.
Enfeebled, why bother.

I am ready to say.
Enough.
I am tantalized.
Where come us all?
So much talent to design,
Word combinations that
Astound.

I think.
Never write a sentence.
Longer than five words.
Simplicity.
Modesty.
Let this be your.
Memory.
Record.

There is no place.
In this mirrored world,
Where selves so easy slashed.
For arrogance.
There is no place in poetry.
For the arrogant.

More on this later.
Now, I am knee-floored.

Crying. Begging.
Turned my eyes
To the mountains.
From whence will come
My help?
My miracle?

September 7th, 2013

3:56am

The phone crazed against its plastic receiver.
Tossing her clippers on the counter
with an exasperated sigh, she picked up.

"Mary's."

She began to pace around her paisley-floored
salon when she read the Caller ID.
Crosby General Hospital

The cord stretched further across the room
with each diagnosis like a tightrope that was
threadbare from decades of grim news and heartbreak.

A single thread kept her composure.

When word came across that her daughter
had died, the wire snapped and her faced turned
scarlet like she was crying barbicide.

It always rains here
Puddles form in the valleys of the cracked pavement
The flimsy gutters snap and stick out like broken fingers
Water flowing in choppy patterns
Slapping loudly against the slick ground
Water always falls where we walk
Our shoes are always wet
Raindrops break though the cold, thick fog that creeps down our throats
We always happen to forget our umbrellas
When it rains all day, I look at the grey blanket of a sky
And think its eyes must hurt terribly
Thanking God we brought our jackets
We converge in the 20 by 20
Linoleum floored room
Hidden away behind the mossy brick walls that catch the rain
We sit in places where the floor is less wet
Letting out hair dry and hands warm
Against the wheezing old heater
Which two lucky ******* use as a seat
Heads crack against the old porcelain water fountain
And feet trip over the wobbly doorstops
We carve our names in the walls
And scuff our shoes on the floor
I bury my nose in the dusty pages of a book
And laugh halfheartedly when someone calls my name
We huddle like penguins in the Arctic

That's Seattle I suppose
And we have never been happier, I think.

I gave a red rose away
My love is peddled in that flower.
Stemming from the depths,
the depths of an aortic man
Blooms a beautiful weakness.
For it leaves him vulnerable
To a raging red river of tears
Flowing with every rose
He’s ever given away.
He could fill so many boquets
A florist would be floored.
He could put them on display
In an elegant display case
They still wouldn’t be worth a say.

Dumbfounded by an illusion
Asking himself ‘what am I doin?’
Trying to fill this void
With his acts of confusion
Only to find the one answer
The one he’s not looking for.
That all these love stories
He grew up listening to
Have left his ideas skewed.
That love can be found
In the heart of someone else,
Happiness can be tasted
On the buds of another tongue
Without using your mouth.

But little did he know
That none of it was true,
All this time he never knew.
Behind that shimmering smile
Is a mouth that is empty.
His ears never hear church bells,
And his eyes never see stars.
His hands never felt the sand,
His feet have never frolicked,
And his roses were never red.
Searching for happiness
Before he even had it himself
Led to the self-destruction
Of all the love he’s ever felt.

My little guy is the best little guy
And I’ll tell you why

He gets things beyond his years
You wonder if he has an extra set of ears

Because he hears things I don’t even catch
And he can relay them to you
Yet he’s far from even being two

How does he do this you may ask
Without really language, it’s quite a task

But does it he does in subtle ways
A light hand gesture, a simple gaze
He uses words, one or two
If you’re still lost he’ll try to
Help you along the best ways he knows how
He can utter thoughts without having to say them all aloud

A few times we have tried to attest whether we
Are reading too far in, and whether it’s just me
Trying to decipher what cannot be
Whether everything is happening coincidentally

What we have found is that it is not
His conveyance is one with purpose with thought

I’ll give you an example when he was one and a half
He watched a movie about a dinosaur and a boy you’ll have quite a laugh

As did he,
Until it got to the point where the dinosaur brought the boy back to his family
The dinosaur couldn’t go with
Yet he urged the boy to
Nudged him close and drew a circle around who was who
The boy understood it was time to say goodbye
As did my boy as there were tears in his eyes
Which streamed down his face as he watched and he felt
And his daddy and I were so floored we knelt
Beside him not wanting to deter
The young paltable feelings that stirred
Deep within his young body and mind
A soul that seemed too ripe with time
Time that had not even elapsed
Somehow from somefar away transcended past

Love him love him love him I do
How does he know all this while not even two

In those twenty minutes Eve sat silently on the bathroom floor her sanity escaped drop by drop through the windows of her will to live. A labyrinth of oblivion exploding in darkness. Her mind had become a maze of confusion coated with denial. To reach reality and regain the urge to continue life it's self meant to follow the droplets of her memories. They represented her only hope radiating down the path of her past. Like breadcrumbs she followed them. She stopped before the first droplet allowing it to surge through her absorbing the memory she had buried deep...

"Help! He's not breathing, he's not breathing!"

The sound of Matt's voice shook and grounded Eve in the past. She blinked hard at Sam who lied limp in Matt's arms. The toddler was blinking rapidly while gasping for air his eyes rolled back displaying only the whites of his eyes.

"What happened to him Matt?"

Eve demanded to know as she scooped her son into her arms.

"He must of swallowed a rock."

Matt answered looking down at the floor.

"I'll go get mom."

Julie blurted then ran to her mothers room. Seconds later Julie returned with car keys in hand.

"Mom said to take him to the hospital now."

Julie grabbed her sweater then ran out the front door. Eve grabbed her coat and followed Julie. Amanda followed Eve yelling,

"I'm going with you."

Julie started the car put it in reverse, then drove down the back roads towards the hospital. Eve looked down at her son whose eyes were still fluttering clearly struggling to stay focused.  Sam wheezed through what would be his only words,

"Mum... mum,mum,mum,ma".

With the sound of his shaken voice he stopped fighting. His eyes closed and his body was still. Eve panicked.

"No, wake up!  Don't go to sleep, stay with me. SAM, WAKE UP!"

She continued to scream at the toddler while she slapped him repeatedly desperate to see  his eyes open. In the back seat Amanda stirred at the sight of Eves panic. Amanda insisted with a calm but firm loud tone,

"Give him to me, I know CPR."

Eve hesitated still begging her son to open his eyes. She let out hysterical laughter when he did open them again. He looked up at her weary and let out through wheezes followed by gasps of air his final words his mother would every hear.

"Mummum, mummum."

"Give him to me, I know CPR!"

Amanda continued to tell Eve and reluctantly she hand over her son to Amanda when Julie yelled at her,

"GIVE HER THE BABY!"

On the way Julie came to a red stop light with no traffic in sight she still stopped abiding the law even in this hectic situation. While Amanda continued to preform CPR on Sam, Eve turned to her friend yelling,

"ARE YOU ******* KIDDING ME? ******* GO. DRIVE NOW!"

Julie in her own state of panic floored the gas driving the final distance to the Out-reach Hospital. As they pulled into the the Emergency rooms round about Amanda open the door without the car at a complete stop she jumping out with ease still  holding Sam in her arms, she ran through the open sliding door. She screamed at the receptionist,

"He's not breathing."

Eve ran behind Amanda in time to see the Emergency double doors open exposing the emergency room and staff behind them.  Several staff member ran to Sam taking him to a room to began resuscitating the toddler. Eve ran behind them all. As she began to enter the room she was stopped by a nurse who instructed her to wait outside the room.

"But I'm his mom."

"We can not do our job to save him with you here, you are a distraction. Please take a seat over there."

She pointed to the chairs down the hall against the wall.

"Come on girl, let them do their job."

Julie tugged at her shirt. They sat waiting until a counselor showed up relocating them to a private room.


To be continued....

the horse rummages on the track
and the victory is owned by the ****.
soon sleep will engulf my body
like the oblivious quietude of Aokigahara-jukai.
things and their semblance of utmost care.
light begins to burst
and there is little left to see,
wide-eyed, crunched by the efficacy of aches.
taking all to the very heart of hurt
as gamblers wager,
and coming back with the sound of completeness:
a man is a man in his chronology of defeat -
left torn by madness,
a cornered beast pressed against the woods.

the moon plays its lyre, white-washed,
sound wading in the very source of quiet,
hauled out of the Sun, its mother.
this hound stalks the world
with woebegone legs, a reflection of the entire world fractured
by a singular shot at the end.
i hear the guttural snarl of engine
unwavering in its limitations. say, at first light, all exists to paint darkness quicker
than any obfuscated conclusion -- hiding in
itself, its mood for squalors.
the mud dug deep for bones
pared from the slaughter of midnight,
hiding them to mask my defeat:
everything around me sparkles with
the vigor of frailty, all the same.

the nights are too long, scarce as froth
from an opened mouth left flat,
a dry gin bottle.
i imagine sad armies dissolving in pale moonlight, and crosses thumbed down to the snaking hiss of its nondescript prayer.
gears gnash like teeth in anger
of you in your young clothes, the pace of cars
hurrying back to homes.
i remember the splintered wood burning
the last in the round kiln of the Red Lion.
the upholstery of night is the twilight's
catharsis. the coast of dread widens like
the vernal metamorphosis of a young ******* in Gibraltar,
come in, come in with undecided ******.
you can hear the fall coalesce with the levitation of ember, landing like feet blunt
on the asphalt beside desolate bicycles
    in seedy parks.

the surreal tabulation of analogue repetitions:
death's myriad, in all corners screaming
the countenance rebel, against the floored masses.

In the house of the unsaid
Tears are glass beads that drop
The ***** on the bone china

Blood spittles the lips, hair
Raises the dead the cut
Rosary roils and dents

Harmony’s rumour spouts
In the sink. The clock’s twitching
Strikes a mongoosed hour.

And the scattered stations run
The rude wood splinters
As the unsaying are floored

Clouded eyes pain the glass
Outside the house, bare
Trees are leaved with ravens.

The world has lost its way
Addicted to lust and ****
***** and floored
Swathed by cyborg technology!!!
Lost themselves
Made bionic feelings
Of false self help
Their ways of living
And no room for laughing!!!
Their trusses are teathered
Demons with feathers
Using planes for war
Buying hypnotic's on shore
Spending money for hypnotic's
*** trade of the ******
Average being
Turned psychotic
As the hospitals are bashed with junkies
For tis,
Yes
The devil's quite spunky
Thy mind is all funky
Thine cars thou hast made roomies
As thou forgot thy wife and beau
Thou hast ruined mine view
Put lazors in space
**** babies by race
And romantic's tis
Should I even mention thou?
I chuckle and puke
To thineself I rebuke!!!!

As I seeketh reality,
Tis
Still choking in mine own claret!!!

The cancer ate my sister's heart,
her liver, her bones,
and now I'm alone
with my sick-stomached guilt
and my never-told confession.
Remember, we were younger. Our neighbor's sister
came home with a ****** nose and you turned to me,
"What would you do if that was me?"
6 year old certainty, "I'd **** them,"
swelling with 6 year old bravado,
"I'd ****
anyone
who hurt you."
Our mother was appalled and our father told me not to say things I didn't mean, but
I meant it then.
And sweetheart, I mean it now.
I can't **** the cancer, because it's already killed you.
I can't **** the husband, because he's already dead
(left you widowed and heartbroken, my only sister,
and I am to blame).
And so I'm standing here, looking at the
jagged-box-shaped rocks so far far far below,
and I'm thinking
(stacking box, after box, after box
in her empty-floored apartment),
and I'm wishing
(to the crier of sorrows I've never known)
and I'm breathing
(if only he hadn't been the adulterer)
and I'm jumping
(with me).

Water nymph, you are the gentle wind
Bursting the daisy, your eyes, are bells
Of blue echinacea spiriting the light—
Echoing sound which water makes, ring
The laureled forest leaves in cathedrals
Newly sprung of pews, meadows, spark,
The dance of bees, who trace your honey
Scent in combs of ambrosia and sunshine.
The miraculous waters are floored under
Your white, lily petals of feet, your nests
Of hair are embracing tendrils of the wild
Grape, wine and sweet, long forgetfulness.
Maid of the wood, daughter to the moon;
Are you of Elysium or temptress of doom?

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

Outside the tower
In fear people cower

Outside that they call the slums
Where people were nothing but bums

Till one day you are called inside
they say the tower you must climb

you are chosen they say
there is a role you will need to portray
you need to conquer
this 300+ floored tower

And at the top they promise
A land full of promise
A wish will be granted
You'll have anything you wanted

You then build dreams as high as the tower
Only to find disappointment
outside they call you chosen
inside they call you a regular

Along with people that were also "chosen"
You must climb with them
live with them
befriend them
Fight them
Betray them
**** them
Step on them to climb

those same people as you
those same people who were chosen
those same people who were called regulars
those same people that share dreams as you

you need to beat them
and carry the weight of betrayals to climb on top
will you still accept
the title of
a REGULAR?