Daily Archives: June 14, 2008

“A Breeze, Cold” by Douglas Kruse

a breeze, cold but with gentle touch
caressed my back as i lay
enveloped in your arms and legs
i covered you, a blanket
of protection
against the night's chill
we clung together, kissing
lips tenderly touching
your hot breath, full of passion
enflamed my desire
as you begged me
to enter, and be warmed

“Letter From the Past” by Brittany Sohrweide

"Where is it Tom?!" Nancy screamed at the top of her lungs. "I know it's around here. Tell me where it is!"

"I really don't know what you're talking about Nancy."

Tom's eyes were tearing up but he refused to break down; he had to be the strong one. He knew it was mentally impossible for Nancy to be strong.

Nancy had been diagnosed with schizophrenia only a few years into her marriage with Tom and she thought Tom had been cheating on her with a woman named Gene.

Nancy tore up the house for the third time that week. There was a dent in the wall from her throwing the smooth mahogany antique dresser into the wall because of the suspicion of infidelity. The mirror that lay delicately on the top of the dresser broke all over the icy hard wood floor. Tom was sitting on the bed with sympathy and tears swelling up in his eyes. His once muscular and proud frame slouched on the soft, but cold, plush bed just waiting for Nancy to come over and fight him. He knew he would never fight back, so he sat motionless waiting for the storm. His soft brown hair lay in straggles on top of his head from Nancy pulling it, trying to get an answer from him. As she ripped and tore through each drawer in the house, Tom watched helplessly from the desolate bed. She suddenly slowed down and looked aimlessly into the drawer. Then she slowly and delicately picked up a loose sheet of dark oak plywood that was lying on the bottom of the drawer.

"What's this, Tom?"

She turned around; her slim body spun around with ease as her floral dress carefully wisped around in the summer air as if time, just for that short second, slowed down. Her bulging green eyes glimmered as tears hung from the bottom of each eye lid; she had been crying for sometime now. Tom looked at her as he always had, he looked at her with sympathy, with love, with care, with contempt. More than ever this time, he wished he could just help her be the person he knew she was on the inside. He wanted to take away every fight, every panic attack and every suspicion her mind told her she had. Her naturally tight curled, fiery red hair fell down the front of her glistening, freckled pale shoulders and chest. She took her hand and gently moved her thick, hot hair off her heavy breathing chest. She held an old, yellowed letter in her other hand. She calmly but firmly forced herself to ask, "There's no other woman, right? Then what is this Tom. What is it?

She pursed her slightly damp orange colored lips together. She looked at Tom in a way she never had before. She looked at him like she could finally put this to rest. Tom was sitting on the bed with his face hanging low, almost in his muscular chest. He sat there and thought how he didn't know if he could handle Nancy's tantrums and suspicions any longer. As he lifted his heavy head, his glance stopped where he saw the old letter in Nancy's hands. His eyebrows lifted high among his brown eyes.

He started to panic. He had never seen that paper in his life. He cried out to Nancy, "I've never seen that paper in the drawer before Nancy; you have to believe me."

Nancy thought she had finally found the proof she had been looking for. She carefully traced her eyes on the letter and hung unto every word. She gasped and held her thin, pale hand over her now opened soft lips. She slowly began to look at Tom sitting on the bed by himself. He still sat there quietly waiting, worrying and wondering if he could ever convince her that she had always been and always will be his one true love.

"Tom," she spoke softly so that he could barely hear her, "I need to lie down."

Tom obeyed her and very softly walked over to her, grabbed her with one arm around her hip and grabbed her hand with his. He walked her slowly to the bed and laid her down sympathetically and caringly because he knew how trying her episodes were on her body. Her frail body laid effortlessly on the comforting bed. As Tom and Nancy laid on the bed together, there was a warmth between them which they haven't felt in a long time. All she could do was look and read the letter over and over again. All Tom did was look into her eyes passionately and understanding. He wanted to say something but he couldn't. He enjoyed the silence, stillness and the closeness he was feeling towards his Nancy. He didn't want to ruin the moment he missed so much. He nervously opened his mouth and took a deep filling breath and spoke the same words he had said to her time and time again, "Nancy, look, I know you think I've had an affair, but I love you and respect you more than any person I have ever met. I haven't had an affair, and I don't plan on it."

After a long period of silence, Nancy began to open her dried lips and spoke to Tom in her broken and dried up voice, "You have to read this letter, it's nothing like anything I've ever read."

Tom brought his head up in surprise. He didn't know what to say. He wasn't expecting Nancy to say what she said. She said nothing about an affair, she said nothing about a suspicion. What she had said was completely true, not part of her fallacy. This time Tom saw Nancy. Not Nancy the overwhelmed, crazy and jealous wife. He saw the light- hearted caring, romantic Nancy who was now crying softly with a sort of smile upon her once unhappy lips. Tom wondered why and how this letter could've changed Nancy's mood so dramatically.

Tom, almost unmoving, took the letter from Nancy's clinging fingers and read:

Dear Ingrid,

I know you are waiting so solemnly for me at home. I wish we weren't separated by this war but I have an obligation to fight. I hope you remember how deep my love for you is and I hope you know a moment does not pass that I don't think of you. You are true to me, dear to me and I'll never forget that you will always love me. This I am sure of. Don't worry about me here. I known the love we share can conquer the best, the worst and the most horrible of times. And if you happen to go crazy missing me, I hope you know I will be just as crazy without you. I wish so much we could be in our house together, walking among the hard wood floors, seeing our reflection in our long life-size mirror and lying together like we were meant to be in this same moment. Instead I sleep here in this small tent and cold blanket but every night I think of us, because it's the only thing that keeps me alive. Though I wake up to the same horrible camp with all the other men, I'll remember the dreams of us of when we were happy and there wasn't a care in the world. So, darling, if I don't come back to you; I wish to die in my sleep dreaming of your beauty and wonder walking hand and hand with me upon the beach down by our beautiful house. With all the possible love in the world,

Your husband, your confidant, your love;

William Anderson

Tom looked in disbelief. He now knew what had changed Nancy. He knew that from now on things would be different. He could feel it, and he could see it on Nancy's face. Now more than ever, Tom wanted to fix things with Nancy, He wanted to get her help and this time it was different because now she wanted the help.

As the years go by when Nancy and Tom got into fights, they pulled out the yellowed but beautiful letter they had read so long ago. They would remember the reason why they love each other and how they would never feel complete without the love that they had for each other.

“Poet” by Corey

They yell at me, but I can't yell back,
they hit me, but I can't hit back.
They get their point across, but mine is unheard;
they blame it on me and don't let me say a word.
               i am MISUNDERSTOOD
               i am MISUNDERSTOOD
               my word is NO GOOD
               i am MISUNDERSTOOD

“Amerika” by Katherine Zaleski

Stuck hot
Sweaty day in July
The streets are like molds of some hidden place seen in the third world country
But I'm here;
In Amerika
Where everyone is free and the justice is abundant
Just as long as you can survive the sweltering sun in the summer
And only imagining what the winter days can hold for such a lovely sight of poverty

The guns overhead
The guns in my head
The barrel
Better off dead

Scores of dead bodies like holocaust
And the inner city don't know war world two
Or how the mafia cuts deep throats and lays bodies inside playgrounds on the south side
The ghetto is deader in the real city lights
Harlem is all cleaned up now
Multi-billionaires with their maid service sex
No dust
No hooligans
And mercy is only talked about on Sunday church pews

I surrender
I call quits to the excuses of houses that these people live in
How the trash strewn throughout the sidewalks
The pavements
It's dinner for those that cart metal luggage with fifty five cents in bottle returns
Unknowing that Pennsylvania doesn't redeem and recycle because of all the tourists that dirty the streets to see the liberty bell that is
And all the English spoken letters written for our new country
She's called Amerika
And she is baby
All democratic and justice for all
Except for those that live nearby
In the city streets
The inner city
The hot smoldering summertime sun
Its all pussy wet
And I laugh like hollow shit through my eyes as I stand in the middle of the street praying to just get home
Not get shot
Dead on arrival
Like last night
All the gangsters
All the bullet wounds
Bullet sounds
Like holes in the head
The yellow tape
Sticky names
Promises kept and aborted

I see drug dealers sucking spoons with melted lighters near their lips
I see children holding their children
Killing ants in the playground they call home

But our mayor
He says we alright
He says at least not many homeless
Even if the inner city is sick
He says we ain't got no money
But we got jesus
And we saved
Unlike the white man
Unlike the followers through time who got us here

Our mayor was shot last night
Big bad man
And a bigger gun
And the inner city still looks the same
And those promises
Made by our father
I finally found out that our country just lies

She is dead
I am here in some great big picture Picasso painted years ago
I hide in cave dwellings
Inside the graveyard down the street
I got mud in my ears
No food
And I can't spell your name
Nor pronounce these words I speak
'Cos I am poor in the inner streets
Unlike the rest of Amerika

“Lynn’s Melody ” by Sean Alfred Juillerat

Let the Roses fall all in all like Glory once enchanted
As the Night from pursuing Light her Beauty only haunted
Granted there are better things ideals more noble in virtue,
But though I have sought what life has taught
She returns again and consumes my thoughts
So as for books the lore they bring
I think and remember purely nothing
Her gazing and sighing her dull replying,
Heard as melodies dying

Lynn's melody is spent as the dying Swan laments
Through the lake once radiant,
Jubilant her song refrains!
Jubilant her melody remains!
As the Swan lay dying as the Roses fall,
She came as a whisper singing
Heard as melodies dying.

Untitled by Kyle

This feeling in my stomach,
Always when im with her.
Makes my hands shake,
And tremble.

Looking into her eyes,
I see what I love.
Her blue eyes glisten,
As she stares me down.

When her hands touch me,
I shiver with love.
I will always love her,
Till we break apart.


I am trying to say,
We will never be apart.
I love her way
too much

“Good Enough” by Ed Grinwald

Good Enough

When I’m slaving away,
Working on something,
I work forever.
When It’s really done,
I change it.
Once It’s changed,
I change it
I’m never satisfied,
And always see my own
I often ruin things that
I once liked, because
I saw them being
One of my biggest
Flaws, I can’t leave
          Good enough alone.

“Illusion of Enlightenment” by Rev Upali

in a dark deep forest even the days appear like night,
a herd of monkeys shivering in mists.
they saw some fireflies in glistening light
in a jerk of pleasure opened their fists
and jumped from tree to tree for warmth
chased the fireflies from branch to branch
they felt a little warm just for pleasure’s worth
and began to prance in pride of their intelligence.

“The Thicket in the Park” by Jennifer Fenn

Beyond the bridge it stands,
A thicket across the lake,
Dense and green on light pink heaven.
My eyes wander into it, over the water.
Is it a lovers' garden?
Or a big labyrinth
Where some forgotten childhood dream
Lies buried in the dank, murky earth?

I can't wonder long.
The trees will blacken
As the sky grows fuschia,
Then mauve,
Purple and black.
The thicket fades
Into a dark oblivion
Beyond the sky.