Daily Archives: October 16, 2008

“Flame” by MVJ Simon

Self immolation
Isn't that what you do everyday?
To spread some light around
And show them the way?

Blind fools groping in darkness
Stumbling…falling…getting hurt
If it were not for you
Throwing some light around…guiding them

Will they ever remember
That it was you who gave them light
At a time they were fumbling
Not knowing what lies ahead

Yet you burn yourself out
At pyre of knowledge
Sharing what you know
Without a care

Lighting many earthen lamps
With your burning flame
The room glows brighter
When eager young faces shine

You know you've done your job
When you don't see them again next year
In your class, in this room
They've moved on to greater heights

Some day when they come back
And tell you how good you've been
Passing on the flame of knowledge
That made them who they are

Someday, when they forgive your chiding
and red welts on palms
And realize the pains you took
In making them learn

You'll feel that it's justified
Your troubles forgotten for a while
Someday, when the oil gets diminished
And the wick shortened

You'll bask in the glow
Of a thousand lamps lit!

“Distractions” by Michael Tarter

Secret society of those
who bruise knuckles
on objects that

Leaves of grass
waved once
right Whitman?

Now replaced by
concrete and food stamps
grind it out

Pay the mortgage
raise the kids
buy a motorhome
retire and die

Society is getting bigger
while other societies
keep secrets

Our jobs
your money
my money

Our money
the big men
laughing on high
their own society

Money, power
drugs, booze and pussy
they have that

We have distractions
and concrete
food stamps

How do the leaves
blow now, Walt?

“Beauty in Life” by Margaret L. Campbell

Is seen all around
Up above without frowns
From the blue sky
To the well cut grass
It is something one sees
When they look here, there and everywhere
Touched by the smell, the feel, the sound
The trees and flowers are suddenly found
As we carry ourselves to the ground
Stopping again to see what is there
While smiling and turning the page
With happiness, contentment, and no rage

“Senseless Destruction of a Beautiful Mind” by Michael Tarter

It all starts lovely
endless conversations relating to
bullshit ideas
constant comforts where
comfort is desired

It's called love
because you want it to be
both people need it to be
something you can feel
touch, hold, breathe in

Remind you what life is
yet life is fleeting
similar to love
what was pure becomes
ugly, undesirable and tainted

Jealousy, fear and longing
replace loving, joy and trust
Her eyes once provided comfort
Now a subtle glow of a TV screen
are all you have

So the thoughts come
a cowards way out
a sip of poison or
slice of flesh all
with a final result

time stops
you look for words to say
none come
your mind has been destroyed
by life or love

Paint your picture in
the silhouette of the moon
forget about life
it's always just love
love is death

“Woolgathering of NIght” by Gurbir Singh

When the fourth beam
Of her baggy cheeks
Checks the fortieth cheer
Of my suggestive eyes,

She forward passes in silence
A round, searing air
We both share between us
In our unexciting igloos.

When her flowing tresses
Volunteer some chic air
To weave the clean magic
She considers wicked,

Her brainpower outlines
Petty links of a wiry passion
That never bind, only compel
Her ditch-digging moral sense.

She is a spanking new time
In bright, fleshy tissue.
A thin fealty or a loath century
That has played truant to me.

Whether she was not on time,
Or was I too early on here,
There will be no date to measure.
The tryst too will never be,

For a stupid era has over-timed us
In frame, and in fancy too. And
Because a crude fact has overrun
The woolgathering of nights.

“Cruel Truth” by Zweni

So I lose myself in the city streets
As I'm kidnapped by Inquisitiveness and curiosity.
Eyes recognize what the ears know,
Feet tread on street children's concrete beds.
They flood tarmac hour after sour hour, bare-soled,
Beggin' tycoons who respond from a distance
By hurriedly and ignorantly elevatin' electric windows.
Behind comes the ordinary man
Who opens his not-so-electric window of his heart,
And out comes a creased lunch bag where resides
A slice of crust and infinite crumbs of care.

Downtown, the bitter side, seems better
And bares a fancy face of deception
Whilst bloody internally and full of screams
That amplify when darkness arrives.
Happy and sad, creatin' waves of confusion
In the air full of chemistry-reactions,
A nature man's worst nightmare,
A factory tycoon's globe-warming share
Who gives the shelter cotton and woolen care
Only to dress his ego in the process.

So now the ordinary man rests,
The nocturnal demons and apprentices work.
Time to escape the streets and their temptation.
Time to shed tears for pain-receptive hearts.