I know a place
Far from this time 
That has gray skies 
Yet never rains 

I know a place 
That has just one city 
Glass windows broken 
Vines and plants smothering 
The gray cement 

I know a place 
Where there are only 
Fallen skyscrapers 
Cracked streets 

I know a place 
Where people are scared 
And huddle in the city 
To threatened to move 
Imagine it 
Mankinds whole population 
In one city 
They are Violent 
Because war reins 

I know a place 
Where gun ships replace 
Rain 
Where bombs replace 
Trees 
Where starvation replaces
Animals i once knew by name 
That are no longer 
Where food is to be fought for 
And sides to be chosen 

Yes I know this place 
I visited it in a dream 
I was on the opposing side 
In this silly game 
A member of their convenient war council 
Yet I do not know what we were called, what we fought for 
I was here in this mourning city 
By accident 
And I saw a boy that I knew 
Flying one of those gunships 
Our eyes locked, and 
Next thing I knew 
I was holding his face in my hands 
Crying, for war was indestructible 
Whispering to him, "I know you" 
And he looked at me with frightened eyes 
And said, "I wish I did" 

Yes, I know a place 
Of despair 
Of toil
Of misguided hatred for our brothers 
Our sisters
Of loss 
Of agony 
Of people so crude, so violent and twisted by fear and loss
Huddled in the Mourning City 
Where even hope isn't among their prized possessions 
Did you know 
That some don't know what the sun is? 

Yes I stay away from that place 
The Mourning City 
I wonder which is really the evil side
And travel down a hill 
Covered in grass 
Shining, lustrous, long blades of it 
Braided together in clumps 
Sand showing between them 
I sit on this hill 
And look out at an ocean 
Reflecting the gray of the sky 
But somehow transforming the gray 
Into the finest silver 
It is an ocean, yes 
But it has no waves to ruffle it 
Even the wind has fled  

 It is the only beautiful place left 
Where grass cranes float in the sky 
It used to be called origami
Borne by a wind made just for them 
I do not make these grass cranes 
Nobody does 
But the grass sitting in clumps on the hillside 
Bends and twists and folds 
Giving up it's life in the ground
To go sailing in the gray sky  
By some miracle offering up true beauty 
If only people would come and see it 

This is the place where I am truly happy 
Joyful to the point of tears 
As a crane floats down to me  
I catch it and hold it gently, this miracle the grass has folded itself into 
It reminds me of the paper cranes I played with as a child 
With a smooth, long, straigt body 
With a long tail sloping up in the back 
Pointed upwards to the sky, it's final destination 
The neck is long and slender 
The head perched atop of the neck furrowed down 
In the greatest majesty 
The wings 
Smooth and unbroken 
Wide pieces of blades melded together 
About the length of my hand 
The end adjoining the body the widest part
And blooms and tapers slowly to a point 
Like the petals in a flower 

It is beautiful and graceful, this grass crane 
I throw it back up in the air 
Watch it soar with it's comrades 
As I lay on my back 
Go to sleep 
And awake in my house 
Clinging to the memory of 
a place where I was  happy 
The place of the Grass Cranes

On the train to Haifa
I think about my father
in wartime Palestine,
a different time, a different name
but the same place.

His memories of oranges and beaches
and warm, Mediterranean swimming
are the times he chose to rescue
from the six years when the world
was drowning in its own blood.

The weather is blue and grey
but the sun shines
like my father’s medals
on his blue-grey air force uniform
that entranced me as a child.

As the helicopter gunships prowl over Mount Carmel,
speeding north to Lebanon,
I wonder what times I will choose to rescue
from a land built out of longing,
but paid for in blood.

We could not understand because we were too far and could not remember because we were traveling in the night of first ages. And those ages are gone, leaving hardly a sign and no memories. We are accustomed to look upon the shackled form of a conquered monster, but there, there you could look at a thing monstrous...and free.  The Heart of Darkness

Slowly ever so slowly
Gliding above the burning things below
Some still moved but we did not attend

We were tired of carrion food
There was too much
Still we could hear the distant passage
Of a great beast
Earth shaking roars and shrapnel filled flames
Shaking the backs of our eyes
We waited for that moment of stillness
When the earth breathed between eruptions
Just like that night in Stalingrad
Or Gettysburg when the cannon stopped that summer afternoon
All that could be heard were
The groans of the wounded
Then the clatter of the gunships returned
The spell was broken
Just as it began to move toward the lines of tracers and the 20mm rapid-fire,
Flinging the broken skeleton of the city before it
The beast met our eyes for a moment
Shared a sly grin
Then we knew it for our own
Our private monster

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder
and that of the hurricane.
Tumult whispered white,
both Aeolian and corporeal,
strummed on strings of solemnity;
the ugly undertaker of buried roses
labeled as wary victims of feel-good graverobbers.
All bled emotions are this.
The Louvre's flashbulbed flecks;
the notes woven within coke lines of symphony;
fingerpainted twig-men crafted by bright-eyed smilers;
this juxtaposed disgrace.
All Beau Sancy in the roughest granite jewelry box
with graffiti scribbled laughing like urban Sanskrit .
"I am become death" dripped in blood through the keyhole
so it now mimics a cherry popped in microwaves
unlocking discomfort, yes,
and crimsoning the cocoon of the diamond.
Peep, Tom, at the glittering Godiva within
and watch her grow in the sacrifice of poetry,
for only in the presence of forsaking and death
and anguish and discomfort
and pain
can she grow to break the eggshell walls.
Tears cut canals in Time's beard
because he consigned the memory of the shattered horrendousness
to oblivion
instead of honoring their homage
and paying respect by dropping tulips and gunships
into their graves at noon's meridian.
Opal eyed reader,
you do not understand.
My eggshells conceal themselves
within individual hells
of purple prose,
more of a lavender in my eyes.
But beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

At first a few ornaments shook in the apartment
in that modern city block.
Complacent the warning ignored by the people
then a more violent shudder.
Running out fearing the buildings destruction
outside was total ruction!

Not from an earth quake they had first thought
but there had been a crash!
The unrecognisable craft fallen from clear skies
huge of an unknown design.
Fire and flames spread along a devastating track
there was no going back.

More appeared firing weapons into the fleeing crowd
masonry falling crushing many.
Helicopters gunships and fighter planes approached
being of no match to the foe.
On the ground weird creatures herded those unhurt
driving them precise and covert!

In those early days man had nothing ready to fight
to stop this alien massacre.
These battles were coordinated around the globe
an unprovoked desecration.
Secret protocols had been formulated by governments
on the possibilities of such events!

Satellite signals had been disrupted the attack a surprise
but the resistance had been planned.
Now to be implemented the fight back had begun
hidden basis and weapons brought onto line!
Powerful nations telling us aliens didn't really exist
yet were prepared for the time to resist!

The people don't really know what's going on!

The Foureyed Poet.

Bravely you answered the call
for your fatherlands,
fought revolutionary wars for your mothers,
protected you children from the scourge
of corruption &  greed,
the murderous acts of
villainous human-rats.

You became nocturnal sentinels,
counted stars, cupped cigarettes,
yearned for new creations,
kept faded photographs
in the special pockets
of you tattered knapsacks.
You learned the art of insomnia,
slept in the mud & dirt of your homelands,
spit lead into the sick hearts of the wolf pack,
whom you were always certain would **** you.

You became eternal combatants
& fought with great zest,
confessing your strength
from machine-gun nests,
laughed like mad dogs under fire,
those times when things seemed dire.
You were killed with fireballs & tracers,
gunships & tanks & planes & artillery,
died in shallow trenches
& in hardened bunkers,
in the thick jungles
& in endless deserts,
on mountaintops
& on beaches,
even in the cornfields
& on the city streets
of your own neighborhoods.

You were assassinated by pariahs,
the enemies of your people,
your blood watered your lands,
helped to nourish
your strong beliefs,
the flowers of freedom
& now you sleep soundly,
deep under the sacred-grounds
gifted to you
by the same blood
shed by your ancestors,
your forefathers & mothers,
brothers & sisters, aunt & uncles,
all the members of your family trees.

And with great love
poetry will be written
for you rebels,
recorded histories
& unknown graves
will be the stark reminders
of the size of your hearts
& your mountain of courage
will forever stand as testimony.

If you don't want it don't take it
if you feel poison they tried to **** you with
take the fever and fight back
don't take it like a ***** on your back

They know what they have done
and yes I am going rouge
may their dead gods help them
for the great storm is upon them

Lets see how they will deal with one like me
as I descend to smite them with encoded wings black
lets see how well they will fair
when her fleet Angel falls upon them

I will scatter them like sheep
the ant people will have no mercy
as I **** and destroy
till my sister sun screams morning

Time I have to freeze with much ease
all my gunships poised
just to see the fright
with much pleasure in my eyes

Oh yes I am going rouge
nothing will stop me, all the human fools
this time I don't hold back
all my fleets are ready for my call


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris

A pattern is developing , blowflies are collecting
A rush to the gun , hurtful words are being thrown
The bar is being lowered by a stone faced government
The man is signing orders everyday but I know
his game , his followers are 21st century newfangled slaves ,
his lies are cover while the destroyer heads for calm waters ,
his communication a ploy , his tact is a drone , indiscriminately
killing the enemy , his wall is already built , fracturing a country
founded on rice paper morality , we freed a people on paper
in order to **** them wholesale , psychologically and 'legally'
Regal gunships , magic dragons , daisy cutters and cruise missiles
Big pharma , Wall Street , big oil with a permanent winter refusal* ...

Hear me Lord as I pray
Going out on patrol today
Weapons loaded, gear on my back
I am ready for any attack
Walking through towns on patrol
Ready for a fight to unfold

Hear me Lord as I silently pray
Show me and my squad the way
Eyes looking all around
Shots ring out, we hit the ground
M-16s firing back
I pray silently we survive the attack

In my mind I say the Lords prayer
Gunships firing, flying through the air
Hear me Lord as I silently Pray
Help me and my buddies survive this day

Hear me Lord I'm glad you heard my prayer
I will give myself to you with great care
I return to my rack and close my eyes
Take a deep breath and silently cry
Today thank GOD was not the day for me to die
Hear me Lord I thank you for my life
So I can return home to my kids and wife