Breaking up is hard to do
       let's rise take it easy
       Waking- up don't be lazy
My morning glory spiritual stretch
Soothe me like a tranquilizer
His words are my pacifier
The shooting star sprinkling shot

Stars work dot to dot
They connect get rid of all
broken heart subjects
Soothe me star even if there
is nothing to do
We need to do something
Earth wind and fire just
knock-me-out
Don't lock me and throw away
the star key is it going to Key- West
 Daylight no broken light in my
        Star stuff- sight
Light to the dark twilight

Those zillions of stars my
eyes closed I suppose
Take another look lovely rose
The same spot share the good stuff
I saw the soothing words
Star pointed toes who knows
Evenor to out-win the odds?

Not the starry night
Going through something
It's been a hard day night
One star light years to fight
Breathe in and soothe me
It was up to me not to blind me
My cool spirit meditation table

The New York soothing menu
Rendezvous all talk but delicious
She is tough walking
The hardest avenue
The *Positive me even if its the
broken up me that's the only me
No one can take his place to soothe me

French fondue it suits her another clue
Red White moody blues the statue
Do you all agree? Another feel good
shopping spree are the stars true
I cannot even say soothing-word
Your home is your oasis love stuff
                Venus

Sooth me star stuff no one to minus

The hard stuff is to better yourself
The feel-good smooth flowing
Even if you missed your star
You're the no star he's is always late
Soothe me star may be my fate
Cafe warm running lattte late

The forever flight hit so hard
  Got_  Thrown brick harder
They say remorse is the
poison of life
And divorce could be the best
change in someone's life

OH! Lord The new? Hard cushion/night
"The winding rough road see the light"
*It may be tough but make it good deed
Athletic Girly curve walk
The pep talk she had the tough birth
The Preppy he's training the puppy stuff
You don't have to be a star it doesn't matter

Who you are
Never get in the middle of a dare
Show the whole world you care
Puff the magic dragon
Harder side of logic is the mission
Been Moonstruck light flick
Both mouths a volcano

Hard star stuff ham and swiss hero
Exploring new stuff
Please take it from pointed star
beware?
She walks like she is hot stuff
Those color forms of love stuff
Things and stuff
Stuff and things

Walking through the end of
the exit
It a hard position of the angle
Tough to be single even more
to deal with lotsa stuff to be married
Being the first online
I am getting a handle on my stuff

Indie Pop like Ice Queen Pop
Going mainstream
She's Brook long stream
He's under the influence
She doesn't nearly have
the up to par patience
Gifts of curiosity

Adjusting to reality
Hard life too much focus
On our happiness
He's coming home
breadwinner of money
Just one loaf of
bread she blossoms
Disavows humanity

The harder the words
How it challenges our sanity

Dark crayon hard stuff
Heavy_Rough__Tough
Wild Hawaii Say Hi to all our
blissfully but soothing hearts
She is like a hard sandpaper
He is so cool reading his
worldly carefree life

He is inside the newspaper
Big Ben London guard
How mindset like Hallmark card
Too much Holiday Turkey going
****** tunes when there is I tunes
So powerless word hard ingenious
Be thankful for what you have
But feeling too much
of the dry spell that rain fall
Going to that heavenly gifted secret
Like an Elephant, you are

the tough one the smart one magnet
No-one is perfect to be the
brilliant one
The star way of the fantasy
Nothing fancy doesn't make you jump
Presidential Trump Roger Rabbit
My lucky tower rabbit foot
Between a hard rock meets her sexuality

Having bad luck long shot solitude
Hallucinations all dark things hurt
My imagination world is sometimes
belly overstuffed Santa Claus
I love the hard candy bitter- sweet metal
Who gets the Metals and honors
The Terminators better leaders

PJ-Clarkes Princeton NJ
Superman Clark Kents
We need more therapy events
Princeton pancakes no remakes
And tons of maple syrup
***** Tonk women at the rodeo
Her horse lucky hoof sooth me

Stars real stuff
New York City roof ruff ruff
A hard rock and critters
And then you wake
back to the hard stuff
Soothe your pain the goodness of the rain

Another night of television hell I was in the middle of a hell of a block.
And withoout the funds my usal cure of hookers and *******  wasnt a open
road so to speak.

I was lost I wondred the streets like  ****** in need of a john.
When through the darkness it appearded a well lit haven in the middle of
a thoughtless storm.

The cinema cafe drinks and films  hmm from looking at the marquee seems
there wasnt much to choose from .
It read like a preschooler had puked apon the board.

There were sequels, and prequels,  gay vampires that walked around in the day,
Weirdos who flew around on broom sticks and loads of treenage **** minus the ****.
Dear lord! I had to get to the bottom of this problem.

The pimple faced kid at the booth asked me in a squeeky yet firm semi manly
voice can I help you sir?
Yes my dear crater face whats with this **** you call films here ?
Umm I dont make em sir there just whats popular.

The greezy faced hampster had a good point in what he said that is.
cause other than that I had no clue what he was working with really what do you think
I am some kinda pervert?

Let me ask you something do you like this **** you sell tickets to?
**** no dude its garbage for halfwits and retards  and some people from Canada.
Who the hell wants to see that **** from twilight  play snow white?
Let me ask is that a adult film?
Duh no ******* we dont show thoose here.

Would you know were I could see thoose films?
Im doing some umm research on human sexulality  it involves alotta big words
which i cant spell so i'll spare you the details  just point me in the right direction
and nobody gets hurt.

Dude they havent shown thoose kinda movies in theaters for years.
Oh yeah and theres this thing called the internet once is way better than writting on your
cave walls.
Kids there really great *******.

After some back in fourth who gives a **** or really reads this ***** banter.
The man with the pizza face finally hit his limit.
Look *******!
I dont make the **** ,I dont watch the ****!
If you gotta problem take it up with the studio exects in Hollywood.

You gotta point there sparky give me your keys!
What! No.
Give me your keys or else.
Or else what grandpa  your gonna hit me with your walker.

No you silly *******.
Or else I'll shoot you.
Ya see young man that should wear a iron mask.
You may have a I Phone
But I have a handgun  and  that always wins the debate no hand em over.

After a brief moment of the little ******* ***** crying and begging for me not to **** him.
Really he watched to many TV shows I wasnt gonna **** him besides.
Im allergic to prison and it wasnt even a real gun what a *******.

I was off in my borrowed car  to the land of bad ideas and great **** jobs.
A place more fake than barbies dream home minus that dickless tool she always
hung out with  not that I played with Barbie's but she does have some really kickarse *******
and im a big fan of ******* hell what great writer isnt?

It was a drive that seemed to take forever  but finally i pulled up to the front gate
of Warner Brothers studios.
The little weird looking gate keeper looked at me and said .
can I help you sir.

Yes please direct me to your leader strange gaurd troll.
Uhh sir this is a closed lot only people with passes can enter.
Well what if i know the secret word?

Who told you about the secret word?
I had him with that one.
These Hollyweird vampires couldnt have enough brain power to
keep some pass on them.
Okay whats the secret word sir?

I had to think deep and from such a shallow mind that was asking alot.
What could it be it had to be something that rang true like snorting a line of
coke of Katy Perry's  ***'s.

Dear lord I had it.

Brad Pitt ***** donkey *****.

The man looked at me in utter shock  I wasnt sure if he was gonna let me pass
or try to pull me out my slightly worn odd smelling borrowed car.
Alright sir it's lot 69 hahaha  yeah I know im demented.

Right next to the lot there filming Winds Of Change **** The Musical!
Staring Johnny Depp and Bogo the ***** chimp.
****** i wish i wasnt busy  that chimp seemed like he had a good head on his shoulders.
Well when he wasnt jerking off and eating bannans while throwing his poo.
What a talent indeed.

I found myself in the studio people running every which a way.
It was total confussion   seemd like no one had a clue what the hell they were doing.
Hey ******* shouted some weird little man in a chair who the **** are you!?.

The little red haired man must truely be dellusional.
How could someone not know Gonzo?
Well sir just who the **** are you? I replied.

Well im Ron ******* Howard *****!
Hmm never herd of you are you a director or something?
What!!!
Ever hear of Andy Griffith  or Happy Days?
Oh yeah your that little dork that hung out with that cop yeah what a snitch.
I was playing his son *******.

Dam well seems this ginger finally explained to me why that man always had him around
it all makes sense now i just thought he was some kinda pervert.
Course seems like he had picked up some bad habbits from that Fonzie guy
never trust a man who calls the restroom his office but what a man does with
another man in a ***** restroom for plesure or profit is his own bussiness.

Look *******  what the hell do ya want?
Lets start with a gallon's of nothern light maybe some top shelf hookers some good music.
Maybe a couple hits of some lets say nose candy maybe turn off the lights and see what happens.
Im just saying sometimes ya gotta let nature take it's drug filled course.

Im not talking bout from life dip **** i mean what the hell are you doing here?
Oh **** sorry there  carrot top.
I wanna see the person in charge that green lights all this remake **** you souless
morons put out and call entertainment.

The little red haired devil was silent as he explained to me no one ever saw the
studio head it was like meeting Santa Claus or ****** or being in the pressence of a unicorn
really whats the diffrence.

He warned me of the dangers of meeting such a great mind yet like I do with
most people I simply shook me head and agreed much like i do with
women im trying to sleep with duh like I care about her tweenty seven cats.

Finally after learning I wasnt taking no for a answer he lead me to a room
And in this room was a screen and apon the screen appread a face.
Who dare question the mighty head of the film studio!!

The voice was loud  still it had that comfoting quallity that you just have to love in
a windbag *******.
Umm me.

You well who the hell are you?
Duh ******* im the long winded ******* writting the story.
Oh well what the **** do you want?

Sir I wanna know what the hell's wrong with you people.
Look im a drunk but i could never be drunk enough to pay a fortune to watch half the **** you call entertainment between remakes and films based on gay *** stories about vampires
and dudes who run around the woods calling themselves werewolves.

You mean you actully saw twilight?
The voice asked me on the verge of laughter.
Duh i see a bunch of hot chicks  going anywhere im following without asking
much like the mindless drones that watch that ****.

Sir your a sad sad man.
The strange face on the screen vanished out from the curtan appeared
what looked like *** it was Bugs Bunny !!

Bug's!  
What's up gonz?
****** i always knew you were real much like Fergie and spanish fly.

Gonzo i know half this **** ***** but its because mindless idiots love studip ****.
Look you were once a popular writer and you cant even spell.
Ouch now go ahead mighty furry samuri.

Ya see whatever makes money we put out and really stupid young girls much like your teenage
wife love that **** and being perverts like yourself wanna get laid you'll take them to that ****.
Bugs are you saying it's all about money?

No **** *******.

We talked drank watched backroom casting couch tapes of early starlets like
Harrison Ford no wonder he was so good with that whip.

It was magic minus the  money loving **** mouse that'll sue your ***.
Bugs I gotta ask you a deep question?
Shoot there Gonz .
Is Mickey really just a cross dresser calling himself Minnie?

You are messed up in so many ways Gonz.
We laughed swapped ***** stories  like the time Bugs slipped
Daisy some ****** and got a ******* in the magic castle  while goofy watched.

What the **** is Goofy?

Gonz .
My furry amigo said to **** if I know.

Untill next time kids stay crazy

And remember if you wish apon a star  ya better make sure to whom thoose copy rights
belong to truley are.
Cause thoose rich ******* will sue your *** .

Cheers

                               FIN?

the bottle twists
glass falls in drifts
and air parts like flesh

there’s a terror beneath this city
trucks enter from out of town and shake the power lines
passing without pause

sometimes birds gather for days
chirps grow exponentially
before tailing into silence;
heather and brimstone
little bodies roll to the edges
and burst on the streets in red regalia

a somnolence keeps the city forgetful
time flows in fits
a streetlamp; a raven; ten gravestones
it all runs without moving

vessels dilate
hands hold themselves

there’s nothing to breathe with
an empty chalice, turned on the hour grants
heaving clenching writhing
an ocean of rust
bulb shatters, blood spills out her
mouth cave head turn faith
the world remakes itself
*******
the colour of sunflowers
bicycle chains
thirst
colonialism
wet paint

emptiness over emptiness
act without agent
lack lack lack lack lack lack lack lack lack lack lack
peel the flesh and find flesh
always more flesh
don’t stop they know better
chirp chirp chirp
turn
exit
substance
purpose
nothing

Hollywood sell-outs, bands change
it's only now a new ******* age.
Disney new ballet is ***** to
money, and ideals we knew
vanish with subtlty

Michael Bay puts
the spode into explosion
while the media ****
francises and more.

Horror remakes are they
such a good idea? Suddenly
Jason and Freddy no longer
bring fear. Robert Englund walks
with a stick, but Hollywood
this shtick no good.

Entertainment industry
thrive on naiveity while
we sink deeper into
simplicity. Education
stagnating as a whole
with cries of purity
and morals galore.

Blood and gore we crave
we want, so Roth and Saw
sold us hard, but questions
now number on the minds
as people question our
sanity.

Marvel the gods and
Heroes have forgotten the
way, they're now
in Disney sway.

People are dancing to
the new sensation,
it's lacks a plot,
it vilifies most and
fills with hesitation.
It's High School Musical.

'I want Edward Cullen'
girls now cry, 'He's like
so hot and sweet' Twilight
is the new blue.

The Boy wizard now grown
up he's out of Hogwarts with
friends in tow, pursuing new
careers and other goals.

Sony and Microsoft strive for the
crown while Nintendo say jump
we all ask 'How high?'

Guitar hero, play like a
star, with a couple of buttons
and combinations, you master
AC to the DC with Stones and more.

People yell Fail at Vista,
though eagerly await
Windows 7. Meanwhile
Apple as a company
considered arrogant,
with branches in every
market, ranging with
ipods and iphones, well
you know what they say,
an eye for eye leaves the
whole world blind.

Instant messages and cyber
chat, issue this proclaimation,
that letters are dead and no
longer cool. Conform and
drop archaic methods.

Facebook, Myspace, Bebo
and more, we push for
perfection with a social
site. While people Digg
and Stumble whatever
more.

DIAF we yell to haters,
flaming and trolling
youtube and sites.

Everything viral it's now said
the mistakes you make
could be shown a day later
on any video site.

Generation X move out
and baby boomers time
is up, we're the MTV Generation,
utter jerks, brought up by net,
we learn l33t by age 10 but
english, come again? LOL
and ****, we laugh and laugh
but really we sigh.

Canwehazsanity?
a cute kitty asks

I'm trapped
In a love that is so wonderful and perfect
its not real nor does it exist.
i'm trapped inside my mind and heart and soul
for they hold the Beatles and all of my favorite songs.
I'm trapped
inside on a rainy day
because you know the sound of the water hitting the ground
is one of the most beautiful melodies to my ears, its true.
i'm trapped because i want to be
because the moaning coming from your room tells me to be, i think.
i think, therefor i am, therefore i feel, therefor i writhe in pain,
like the little girl saying Daddy please don't go, don't leave me, please no.
I'm trapped because i think if i stay the exact same you'll wake up and realize that you want me,
the way i was back when you needed me,
back when you loved me,
back before she was around.
like i said, i'm trapped
trapped inside this mind that only deals in make believe and fantasies,
Cinderella stories and snow white because you know they all got their prince.
trapped inside my carriage on the way to the ball because my fairy god mother forgot to give me a handle, on life.
an escape route, a way out, a pause button,
so that when life just gets too hard to handle, i can breathe.
theres a sign on my wall that says one way, one way in, one way out
one way to misery and boy do i know that path like the back of my hand
it leads straight to your front door,
which consequently happens to be home.
i'm trapped inside my room thats right next to yours for we share
a hallway and a bathroom, and a kitchen and a living room,
physically, of course not emotionally.
trapped inside a relationship but i cant tell him the truth
for that would compromise my ability to be honest
and full disclosure is a must.
trapped inside my imagination that plays movies in my head
like all the remakes of Shakespeare's greatest,
only you **** me in the end.
trapped inside this body that is nothing more than a product of my feelings,
i used to be thin, i swear.
trapped at the bottom of this bottle for that is what i turn to every weekend
when you sneak off with her.
i'm trapped in a corner with my head between my knees
thinking, what else could i possibly do.
i'm trapped inside this hospital, the doctor diagnosed me with an incurable disease,
they call it love.
trapped inside these restraints, my hands and feet, and tongue, for i cannot tell you the truth.
now you're trapped inside the waiting room
with mourning loved ones and horrible coffee
awaiting the fate of a truly terrible friend.
i'm trapped inside the thought that you think i was only there because i was in love with you,
well....
its not true, you were my best friend and i was yours and ****** we were good together.
i'm trapped because i know i will never survive
but you, you were always so much stronger than me
i know you'll be fine,
so you can call it, time of death: 1:29.

THE LANGUAGE OF WATER

You wait by the lake
alone

except for your self
&
your reflected self

as if the landscape
dreamt you up.

Your thoughts a flock of birds
scattered across the failing light.

Clouds laugh
run along the ground
on tiny unseen feet.

Trees stand on their heads
wriggling their toes in the air

& you
become as two

both real & unreal

as if a living
dream.

You hum
Pachabel's Canon

as sun & horizon
listen.

Not bad for a human
they both agree.

It's as if
I need a key

to enter this magical
dimension

as if I have to
invent one

...a magical one.
I take a little stone

whisper to it the secrets
of flight

and teach it how to say: "Splash! "
in the language of water.

The little stone
transformed  with its new knowledge

does as it is told

shatters
this mirror world

opens
the dream

and I enter
bewitched

as any fairytale
Prince

my voice
calling your sweet name

with longing

you turn
& we embrace

kiss
& look upon ourselves

as the dream
remakes itself

stitching itself
together with silence.

An old artist
(unknown to us then)  

places us
the lovers

at the center
of his composition

adds this
final brushstroke

and pleased
with his efforts

folds up
his chair

packs up
his paints & easel

smiles at our
kisses

wishes
us a goodnight

and is gone
eaten by the twilight.

Our laughter
frail & fragile

lingering on the night air

playing peek-a-boo
with the moonlight.

What does it mean to be free?

I look down to my hands and my feet and what do I see?

Not shackles, not chains, not confederate flags,

not the fields and not the pains

Of my ancestor who were slain

Who worked in the sun and in the rain

What does it mean to be free?

Does it mean to go to college and get a degree?

Does it mean to live with your head held high and your eyes wide shut?

To live with that uneasiness way down in your gut

To keep your mouth shut and your head off the platter

To many, it seems they’d rather do the latter

What does it mean to be free?

Momma never told me, that’s something that in her lifetime she probably never got to see

Something in her lifetime she never got to be

You can take the shackles off a person and they still won’t be free

Because you destroyed their minds years ago to an insurmountable degree

You, you wretched system

You took my culture, took my last name

You try to steal all my remakes but that’s all in vain

You hate me, and you wish I’d fall

You wish I never find freedom but I got the wake up call

You keep chasing me, like my name’s David, and yours is Saul

Because for decades that wretched system put the necks of my people up against a wall

But I got my hands up, I’m ready for a brawl

Yeah I’m ready to do it all

I’m ready to throw you like a football

But best believe I’m coming for you last like an 8 ball

Because you see, for far too long I’ve been trying to be free

And all along you keep promising me

All the freedom I could want at just a small fee

The fee Martin Luther King jr, he paid in blood

The fee that Malcom X paid in blood

The fee that Emmit Til paid in blood

The fee that Trayvon Martin paid in blood

And now here we are, trying to get what’s been promised

And what will it take us, more blood?

The sea stretches tight on a slight, white horizon
unflurried by waves, by the clean, boneache moon.
The water rests awhile, passing slowly through the ribs of continents,
its deep, deep chest booming with the cries of extinct fish.

I am not dead, though the salt has lifted me out
and away, its sting green-silver like a safety razor edge.
It rubs away chromosomes, the earliest layers of skin
and remakes me pale and raw as a baby’s spleen.

The land abandons me. The last little fishing vessel
returns to its village, bearing upon its sun-slick floor
the heft of my cells, my tiny stillborn children.
I know I’ll never be a mother;

the salinity of my blood has risen steadily
these past million years;
it itches against my arteries
and calcifies in the deeper pockets of my lungs.

I tower over grassroots, vivid as a corpuscle,
drinking from the local well and dreaming of lysis.

while millions are without power on the east coast
and ocean waters rise high with the rage of nature,
nobody named Sandy bothers me here-
safe and serene in the Midwest, my home

no waters have risen to challenge me,
and no ghouls have come knocking
at my door, though it be Hallows Eve

no fairies have come to take me away
no children or beggars have showed up
to accept my offerings and
free a soul from purgatory

I have lit no fires,
I have butchered no cattle
And I certainly have not
tried to raise departed spirits

the only vestige of Samhain so far
is the thought, a simple remembrance
of the way things used to be
in the pagan myths
with their reverence for the dead

o, the dead have been here, yes
-imitations of them at least
littered on my TV screen
like bloodied tin cans in the street

this is how I revere the dead,
by watching remakes of old
slasher movies, directed by zombies

in them I find masks and screaming
-lots of blood and nonsense
and not one mention
of the way things used to be

The road behind still seemed more tempting  than the wasteland of hollow thoughts and
empty dreams that lay outside my hotel room window.
I'd long since given up on having anything known as a comfort zone.

Still although it was hours since we landed still my thoughts rambled like some child as he sits listening to a trains whistle on a long dark night.

My fellow shadows had long since learned a private room was better than a front row seat to
my often insanity spun sideshow of late nights and bitter rants.
It was me and my thoughts a plague of my own creation  in full swing and obsecure few
a stiff drink and some good pills kept the thoughts at bay for the moment.

We found areselves in the city of Angels but  it reaked more of devils torment and wicked excess.
Hookers cheap *** and some overpriced drugs.
The blood of dreams covered the streets and old starts of the fames lure slept next to the broken and homeless.

Why had I ever came here was it ego?
Or just a good time to flaunt in the face of all thoose caught in the gears of
the day to day grind.

This land of empty thoughts  and cursed remakes there was nothing creative bout this scene kids  just give your neck to the vampire and pray he yerns for a taste.
Maybe you'll be one in the few or just another hideline.
Fallen star found dead outside some overpriced nightclub.

Me I was here for a gig and nothing more .
To provide some laughs between drinks i had no illusions of fame.
To me I looked in the crystal ball and just saw another cheap snow globe
of nothing more than candy coated lies.

This wasnt my scene it wasnt anyones scene just a playground gone
wrong a wasteland of bad ideas and hollow thoughts.
That made Vegas seem like a good idea at the time.

Neon lights and lost thoughts haunt the hours spent like some
silent witness to a future crime scene and a redlight work of art.

And as I recalled the nights show I tried to forget the faces from behind the lights
that seemed broken by some plastic surgeons *******.
Give me women with flaws and unsculpted fools.
Perfect people can have this place that seemed more like a gateway to
a delusion cast hell than screen print paradise.

Course many would paint it diffrent if they held the brush but I wasnt
much of a painter to begin with.
And as tommorow loomed with the smog I packed my suitcase thinking.
If we could just drown half the suits and give it to the miscast freaks
pretending to be superheros for tourist pics what a ****** up
theme park we'd have then.

A few hits and alotta drinks later we were gone and there was no question
If we had left a empression.
Only a ****** of a much higher degree would wanna leave anything there.
Except maybe a pipe bomb in a suits office bleeding some old franchise
for every drop it was worth.

No my friends the rearview wasnt looked in often.
What did you think of it?
My fellow traveler  asked as we counted potholes and passed the bottle

Well it sure wasnt Kansas my friend.
What the ***** in Kansas?
Anything but this ******* place amigo.

We trod in steps without spark,
A careful journey one remakes,
With days of dreams' surrender,
O love— is but a promised land.

In our youth precious time reigns
And greetings are met with sorrow,
Maidens and lads, each entertains
Graces above us, Venus and Apollo,                                                          ­            

Gods on high, who told us stories,
Of the cloud nursery, of mountains
Keep and comings of celestial glory,
Not of gentle caress to windy hands,

Of shy indifferences, the trials of lot,
Nor the endless engulf, still desires,
In this land of lost, unmoving gusts,
Go those who shuffle— souls entire.

Remakes of old foreign films
Frankly fail to thrill.
Comedies are too predictable,
mistaking flatulence for skill.
It’s time to think outside the box.
Turn a genre on its head.
I’m working on a thriller
About folks haunted by one dead.
They must learn the ghost’s identity;
He’ll ***** them til they do.
The working title of my screenplay?
I’m calling it “Boo-Who?”

101–120 of 11462 Poems
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What I Eat is a Prayer
BY JOYELLE MCSWEENEY
Then in the August of my twenty-seventh year,
naked except for my seaclogs,
I greeted an audience of piers. . . .
Bureau of
BY JOYELLE MCSWEENEY
This is the body of,
waiting to turn on.
. . .
The Siren
BY JOYELLE MCSWEENEY
The puppy must be learned of all this material.
No map of the hospital. First, the war effort.
Then, the war itself. The water makes and remakes . . .
Hotel
BY PHILIP NIKOLAYEV
Time to recount the sparrows of the air.
Seated alone on an elected stair,
I stare as they appear and disappear. . . .
Tendency toward Vagrancy
BY PHILIP NIKOLAYEV
I’ve long had what Soviet psychiatrists
called “a tendency toward vagrancy.”
At four I would run away from home . . .
Survey
BY DONALD REVELL
I am so lonely for the twentieth century,
for the deeply felt, obscene graffiti
of armed men and the beautiful bridges . . .
My Factless Autobiography
BY ALLI WARREN
I arise around survival of the event
as worse than the event
The whole place surrounds the smell . . .
Apple Blossoms
BY SUSAN KELLY-DEWITT
One evening in winter
when nothing has been enough,
when the days are too short, . . .
Brasil
BY FARNOOSH FATHI
Left a hole on fire agony or was it the sun
on the banks and near duets?
Eagles with the white wine of the sun . . .
Honey/Manila Portfolio
BY FARNOOSH FATHI
This is not a book. Otherwise, by now
We would love each other.
You would not put me first, . . .
Two Hear Cicadas
BY FARNOOSH FATHI
BEEF: We are here between trees,
with the tempo of a rosary being strung
in a queue of escalating beads— . . .
Memory
BY FARNOOSH FATHI
Over the night a bull
Whispers into a coal
. . .
To the Censorious Ones
BY ANNE WALDMAN
I'm coming up out of the tomb, Men of War
Just when you thought you had me down, in place, hidden
I'm coming up now
Can you feel the ground rumble under your feet?
It's breaking apart, it's turning over, it's pushing up
It's thrusting into your point of view, your private property
O . . .
Beastgardens
BY LUCY IVES
first garden

Beastgarden. . . .
Early Poem
BY LUCY IVES
The first sentence is a sentence about writing. The second sentence tells you it's alright to lose interest. You might be one of those people who sits back in his or her chair without interest, and this would have been the third sentence you would have read. The fourth sentence, what does . . .
Black Swan
BY STEPHANIE YOUNG
After the second conference, I would be cast in the role of a young dancer with a prestigious New York City ballet company. I would be cast in the role of the mother, a former dancer now amateur artist, whose career ended at 28 when she became pregnant. I would be cast in the role of the . . .
Essay
BY STEPHANIE YOUNG
I guess it's too late to live on the farm

I guess it's too late to enter the darkened room in which a single light . . .
A Practice Known as Churning
BY ALLI WARREN
I went to the city some days
to learn my master's pleasure
& laid fort at the farthest place . . .
The Help I Need Is Not Available Here
BY ALLI WARREN
I need help with long term hope
I need help with the dawn
of war and achieving . . .
All My Activities Are Feeding Activities
BY ALLI WARREN
Dear Commissioner
here are my directive accounts
of genitals and cash . . .
«4567»

she lays on the bed
in front of me.
bare skin all over.
i lift my shirt off
at the foot off her bed.

how little faith the night
has in me,
putting money on my exhaustion.

we pull the covers over us, my
face in her neck.
scratch, bite, pull, push.
my hair goes from unkept to untame
like a lion's mane in the dry heat
of the sun.

and like a lion, i feast on her
body.
the curves below and above her hips.
her shoulders,
the nape of her neck.
minutes turn to hours
and her breathing in my ear
reminds me of our pulses.

the most holy moment of my life
remakes itself almost every day
and night
and spills over into the morning
all over itself.

no patience.
but i keep it to a dull roar.

at the last moment, we find
ourselves breathless
and still wanting more.

.
We trod in steps without spark,
A careful journey one remakes,
With days of dreams' surrender,
O love— is but a promised land.

In our youth precious time reigns
And greetings are met with sorrow,
Maidens and lads, each entertains
Graces above us, Venus and Apollo,

Gods on high, who told us stories,
Of the cloud nursery, of mountains
Keep and comings of celestial glory,
Not of gentle caress to windy hands,

Of shy indifferences, the trials of lot,
Nor the endless engulf, still desires,
In this land of lost, unmoving gusts,
Go those who shuffle— souls entire.

..1. .
the fool remakes himself
into a bard

and no one laughs when
he says this out loud
because a crying fool
brings only melancholy and misery

and as for the bard?
well, the bard feels foolish
about so many things

the question still stands
begging for an answer
if loving you
was one of those foolish things

still, the bard would like to think
he understands what falling in love is like
if only from an artistic standpoint
like the poet to the muse

after all, hearts can’t be reasoned with
and this bard has made quite
a career out of being maudlin

welcomes fits of melancholy with open arms
knowing that a good ballad
a misguided declaration of love
is impossible to write without
have a good cry while doing it

2.
and sometimes there is
so much hurt in those tears
that if feels like anger
but the bard does not know
who it is directed at

and does that really matter?
for, while the anger of a poet
runs deeper than blood and bone
the love of a poet is
an infinite thing

maybe not a thing to say aloud
though, what is a bard without
the sweetness of his voice?
fingers tenderly plucking
at his own heartstrings
pulled taut again and again

nothing as poetic as that will
eventually break
even if the bard tries his
damndest to shatter knuckles
against his growing loneliness

because, sometimes, the truth
is saying that you’ve made him
cry and meaning it
when he confesses to missing
being no more than a fool

what does a fool know of love?
of heartbreak
of empty bottles
and emptier promises

the fool knows nothing at all
and the bard would like that back,
so tired of collecting the coins
made from making a broken heart
sound like such a beautiful thing

Spread this out
through your cries
broken little pieces
spread out
like your legs
shaking and bent
the rope remakes you:
a glass sliver contortionist
thorn in your side
like a kitten
lapping milk
with razor tongue

Developing a nicotine addiction
over the silk ambiguity
of a pleasure twitch.
Covering up those cyanide dreams,
stapled at the seams,
with obvious white Pickett fences
& regurgitation.


Her desires rattle
in a spilt tongue oscillation.
Contradicting,
foreign mumbles
spill out like crimson
viscosities;
my mind was a
pig slop maelstrom
amoung those
ancient seconds

Those words will clatter
together like a phantom
in my plasmatic ear
waxes
until
Peacetime:

"I love you."

No hesitation.
Solidified.

****** like an
Indiana Jones
classic.

Intoxicated remakes of that
time we started something:
An archive for death memories,
recollected long after
your exodus.

Asphyxiated.

Enlightens My days of darkness,
Artificial Light,
Weak violet blow of a violent decay
Thunder of rough emotions
Exploding and burning and bursting
In the remote obscure hollows of my head.

This it is; Where pure passion is emanated,
Runs away to the very edge of curiosity
A traveller through the infinite skies
Of my bare human intelligence.

Light of darkness
Expression of sudden expiry
And simultaneous rebirth.
Light of veracity
Reveals and destroys and remakes
As the majority abruptly yells about.
Light of my dreams
Golden thing
On this soil of broken faith.

All of a sudden, sneaking bull,
my cacophonous orchestra wavers
as a sharp blade has sat in my brain.
Boiling gurgling twanging
My mind cracks and gasps
And gulps, when the veracious grace of light
glances out of the waves of my lost sea.
Glorious the way it shows off,
Harsh the way it acts and plays.

And yet Lives and gives life, it is Light.
Speeding through the windows of our soul,
it measures with my fortitude's eyes.
And yet is light
The only source of truth.
And yet,
on this soil of broken faith.

So why, for godness sake, should we avoid her natural touch?

Don’t just rely on the clay, perse.

Live life
From the spirit,
Listen- to it.

There is no death
Only life
Or the lack thereof

Or there is only light or dark.
No time
but only space.

Everyone who was anyone is still,
Will always be with us.
Carole King is a part of me.
All of the remakes of King Kong are also me.
I am also The Women. A Star Is Born.
Hello Dolly.

We trod in steps without spark,
A careful journey one remakes,
With days of dreams' surrender,
O love— is but a promised land.

In our youth precious time reigns
And greetings are met with sorrow,
Maidens and lads, each entertains
Graces above us, Venus and Apollo,                                                          ­­            

Gods on high, who told us stories,
Of the cloud nursery, of mountains
Keep and comings of celestial glory,
Not of gentle caress to windy hands,                                                           ­         

Of shy indifferences, the trials of lot,
Nor the endless engulf, still desires,
In this land of lost, unmoving gusts,
Go those who shuffle— souls entire.

.
We trod in steps without spark,
A careful journey one remakes,
With days of dreams' surrender,
O love— is but a promised land.

In our youth precious time reigns
And greetings are met with sorrow,
Maidens and lads, each entertains
Graces above us, Venus and Apollo,
                                                      ­  ­        
Gods on high, who told us stories,
Of the cloud nursery, of mountains
Keep and comings of celestial glory,
Not of gentle caress to windy hands,

Of shy indifferences, the trials of lot,
Nor the endless engulf, still desires,
In this land of lost, unmoving gusts,
Go those who shuffle— souls entire.
.

.
We trod in steps without spark,
A careful journey one remakes,
With days of dreams' surrender,
O love— is but a promised land.

In our youth precious time reigns
And greetings are met with sorrow,
Maidens and lads, each entertains
Graces above us, Venus and Apollo,                                                          ­            

Gods on high, who told us stories,
Of the cloud nursery, of mountains
Keep and comings of celestial glory,
Not of gentle caress to windy hands,

Of shy indifferences, the trials of lot,
Nor the endless engulf, still desires,
In this land of lost, unmoving gusts,
Go those who shuffle— souls entire.

I have not gone so long without talking to you in two years.
But this was it,
The straw that broke the camel's back.
Our friendship is shattered,
Gone like the one of a kind vause,
Made by the recently deceased artist.
No remakes or copies to replace what was lost.
Who you are becoming has pushed me away.
The decisions, the choices make me wince,
Make me shed tears of loss and betrayal and frustration.
I cannot comprehend who you are.
I do not recognize the person in front of me.
Your eyes are shallow.
They are colder than ever, darker than before.
You are not the person I cared for, the person who cared for me.
We are strangers who know the secrets of each other.
I pass you and try not to think of Dr. Pepper and cherry *****.
To forget chicken pizza and the jokes we made.
Life is moving and tilting and shifting,
Slowly pushing us further apart.
We could stop it,
If we truly wanted to.
But we are resigned to what fate has deemed necessary.
I cannot accept that you are so callous.
I cannot understand how you became so unfeeling and heartless.
So I do not text.
I do not call.
Instead, I sit in the silence between us,
And it widens this chasm into a canyon.

Wow, that's good you're doing really good out there.
Woah, like minus the atmosphere I can stand hectic air.
The pollution is everything and
The way you are balder in the summer even remakes me
****, look over at you and cry for Fall
Lame, that I didn't call until you lost everything.

It comes and goes
Those sensations, those blows.
My spirit found me again
Caught me off guard, didn't knew we had connection
It reminds me and remakes me again
Though I don't need it, I don't need affection
And I am concentrating on racionality to avoid my spirituality
But it's the 7th sense and I can't stop its *******.
It's a ****** battle against the unavoidable
While all I want is to stay in the void fable
It's so comfortably numb and the world is rough
So leave me be, leave myself, release my being, create something obtainable;
Live in fantasy, be something else, ease your ageing and taste everything reachable.
But not me, I am one without a scent
I am a black canvas trying to be a paint
Everything just disappears in me
I am a black hole absorbing all and turning it to nothing
I am hopelessness. Apsens and I are tyed together
The absence is what dyed my conscienceness
I feel nothing because for every passing second I am less and less
I'm the embodiment of emptyness.

So what we love to
walkgossip
$ % & * + + =
I felt like the
despicable
All me *******

Putting on
my Pinterest-face
The pictures have
gone girls!!!
We are loving it bad
We became phone
The culture set
Pearls
Be fit just so_
He sits not so
Professional
Hitman
I really cannot take
any more
Let's not get banned

What!! Β- 4 *******
† $ talks ******* @
Her computer
Like a recreation park
You are talking to me

Tony Montanna
Miley Hanna Banana
Went to Fiamma
Wearing paisley
Bandana
With her *******
She could ride that

Honda
Help me, Rhonda
despicable
Undescrible
Why don't you walk out
on me every time
Doing a
May West
why don't you
come up
and see me
sometime
The fit dime
a dozen
divorces
WC Field
my little
chickadee
Has magical
forces
Swindling
your
spouses

The universe
dark curse
get reversed
Oh! Geez
Too girly
Courageous
Holly Molly
candy Pez
Such *****
Robin the
"Razzmatazz"
Holy cow take a
Shirley bow
Materialistic
cool jazz
New York City
bad climate
cabbies and
druggies

Rebel Rebel
became Sybil
With her cute
puppies
The meter is down any
After hours mortals
The Holy bad Rap
Her laptop non-stop
Top it off with ******
down to her garter

Being almost famous
please don't
bother me I can
compel anyone
that looks at me

Don't tell your boyfriend
The ring holder brother
I am far from anyone's
"Pyscho Mothers"
No trespassing
My Darlings
Desperate wives
inside the
doghouse

******* they did it
In the roughhouse
Perk me up
Pitbulls
Car tolls
Spy girls
tracking fools

Pack their suitcases

Swirly Girly
sardines
Misconduct
Acting up the Dunes
I love the month of June
There is always a sucker
getting married
I could clean anyone
dry mouth just wet
that kisser dry
Vermouth ***** liquor

I am not the sun-shiner
Worshipper

What a hotline love
destroyer
My income is generating
All escapades bomb raid's
never to be held back
escapes
Reprehensible so
despicable
Horse-y **** all
over the stable
The weaker ***
better

The Holy cable
so mischievous
The endless
opportunity
Delicious
The social media
All criteria
My sweet lord,
We are managing
just fine and very
few good ones

Valentines Day
there
good with
rejections bad ones
The best gossiper
on the mic
Those girls
being hostile
"St Thomas Apostle"
Such credibility
******* the
bad omen

Holy Toledo
walk the talk
who wins the
lotto "Gents"
¢ ¢ makes no cents
Hearing gossip
City hurry all linked
Her handcuffs his
chickadee Minked
Going first class with my
younger shades whats up
With fifty shades deeper?
To get older I can never
be beat because
I am wiser
She is the pussycat
so nifty

she scratched her views
What a snare nose
Elephant pants were
too thrifty
Her red devil
stilettos
No Ghettos in Brooklyn
That where I was born
Whats up with these
disposable coffee cups
So many remakes
TV
I rather ramble
on in my
RV
Charlies Angels
SUV
Fridays have the cup
of dirt
Oreo crumbs
it's on me
Martinelli Grape
Despicable hot
Holy night waxed
She faxed
Her voluptuous
love handles
He got her
lovesick
Glove-trick
broomstick
Chocolate
Nesquick

2 die 4 her
2-quick
Dove love trick
He possesses you
one chosen
boondock
sticks

Goodbye
Mr. Chips
bad season
bad hand trash
For big and hot lips
******* he ran
with my chips (Mash)
script movie part
Not a part
******* he wasn't fit
Her French Onion soup
The scoop exploded
Cabernet Sauvignon
Dr. Pepper Brittish
Cannon
Swizzle part deeper

Alice, she is 10 feet tall
"Extravaganza"
I will never be
an extra so small
Come over
to see me
sometimes all
In May West
My chick a dee
propaganda

*** in the City
Miranda
She is kinda
Hot tamales
Hacienda
The fire lit
fiesta

Being
washed out
Dr. Shrink
Like a snipper
skunk

Wonka kick
The 3D movie
The whole
shebang
Bang bang I
shot you down


You could rest azure
In their hair
4C bread
crumbs
Messy
detangled web
Little Deb
Red ties affair
guys start holy-****
So much hair
to wink, they saw me
for who?
*******
Molly Woo

Chinese food
Robin hood rich me
Eggrolls Rock and roll
Her ducked head
Like duck sauce
What a truce
Perfectly damaged
® for reckless
She didn't get her
debut shot

Bad luck turned
my fit to good luck
Picked those
madmen
women are courageous
So Soon then a boom
But when do I see
confidence *******
Just sit
******* just pray_

intentions crystal clear
daylight savings time, saving us from paranoid suicidal minds
future plans and remakes of the past
carefully deposit them in a clear green vial of dust,
unbroken flask made out of dreamy hazy glass
as memories fade,
(this won't -ever-  happen to us)
making-of-my-wildest-dreams
lovingly embrace you & hold you in my arms

still, the daylight can't help but ask me why,
how we're supposed to never come apart
Destiny forgotten due to our childhood's screams:
Romeo and Juliet were prised apart by their mother's grin

now I'm done
questions asked, better left unanswered, better to forget instead
paranoid insomnia (no sleeping at night),
waiting to be forgotten
(even worse, will I forget?),
when the distance gets too heavy
when the drunk thoughts get too weary
when my feet hurt from running in circles
when you realise what you've done.

THE LANGUAGE OF WATER

You wait by the lake
alone

except for your self
&
your reflected self

as if the landscape
dreamt you up.

Your thoughts a flock of birds
scattered across the failing light.

Clouds laugh
run along the ground
on tiny unseen feet.

Trees stand on their heads
wriggling their toes in the air

& you
become as two

both real & unreal

as if a living
dream.

You hum
Pachabel's Canon

as sun & horizon
listen.

Not bad for a human
they both agree.

It's as if
I need a key

to enter this magical
dimension

as if I have to
invent one

...a magical one.
I take a little stone

whisper to it the secrets
of flight

and teach it how to say: "Splash! "
in the language of water.

The little stone
transformed  with its new knowledge

does as it is told

shatters
this mirror world

opens
the dream

and I enter
bewitched

as any fairytale
Prince

my voice
calling your sweet name

with longing

you turn
& we embrace

kiss
& look upon ourselves

as the dream
remakes itself

stitching itself
together with silence.

An old artist
(unknown to us then)  

places us
the lovers

at the center
of his composition

adds this
final brushstroke

and pleased
with his efforts

folds up
his chair

packs up
his paints & easel

smiles at our
kisses

wishes
us a goodnight

and is gone
eaten by the twilight.

Our laughter
frail & fragile

lingering on the night air

playing peek-a-boo
with the moonlight.