Robert Beveridge makes noise (xterminal.bandcamp.com) and writes poetry just outside Cleveland, OH. Recent/upcoming appearances in Neologism, In Between Hangovers, and Clementine Unbound, among others. ABOVE US THE SUNIn the darker days our ancestors would settle the highest mountains. To be close to the sun was to be bathed in the light of wisdom, it was said. The peaks, of course, were reserved for the healers, shamen, priests, and elders who would lead the rest to glory. The desert has no need for mountains, yet it has them anyway. It is possible to stand anywhere, almost, and receive the wisdom that comes with carcinogens, peeling, reddened blisters. Now, as then, those most charred are also, often, those with the most to say. And shamen, these days, are considered deranged. Picacho Peak, high above the dust of I-10. The rains have stopped and bursts of flower are scattered everywhere, fingerpaints of some divine child. Atop its bulk hikers sweat, rest, take pictures, are burnt beyond the skin. Clouds behind them feathered fire in sunset. I stand at its base, just another traveller, arms red with belief, with prophecy. EMPEROR'S RETURNWith him came the sun. His smile, his bloodied hands were signs. They told us what to do, and we did. The pub owners threw their doors open, the butcher gave away short ribs. A bonfire, built to honor the prisoners. The next day, as we feasted, the troops returned. Their hands, too, were bloody. They did not smile. They stood, erect, and accepted the gifts and praise we heaped upon them. When asked why they stayed stern, one said, “it is our job”. The emperor came that night to feast with us, decorate the troops. He lit the bonfire, led us in the songs of remembrance. THE MAN IN THE GABARDINE SUIT 2:30AM like 2:30AM yesterday 2:30AM the day before a car in the street growl of engine between bursts of WIP sports radio very loud and windows open a few minutes later it is gone ODDSSecond at Sandown, turf dead. Recent rain's ghost still haunts the gardeners. Turf runners cannot go gate to wire, convention says. The crowd, perhaps blind, backs eleven, in his third start. He's never finished worse than last. My two drifts up, and up; he needs the lead, will set the pace, be swallowed in the stretch at ten to one. The ghost of rain is light, a fast rider on a quicker horse. The two springs forth, out the chute with rockets in his shoes, is never headed. Gate to wire. Twenty to win pays two hundred ten in dividend. I must learn to do the rain dance WHILEThe world's heart pumps black
through the arteries of the sky black spiders rush to complete the picture. If only you had raised your arms that much faster. The rebirth is not going well, and the seven experiments on the tables around you twitch with impulse rather than will. You await lightning, dance for rain, but clouds of arachnids look down and mock you. You have had better days.
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Anoucheka Gangabissoon is a Primary School Educator in Mauritius. She writes poetry and short stories as hobby. She considers writing to be the meaning of her life as she has always been influenced by all the great writers and wishes to be, like them, immortalized in her words. Her works can be read on poetrysoup.com and she had also appeared in various literary magazines like SETU, Different Truths, Dissident Voice, In Between Hangovers Press, WISH Press, Tuck’s Magazine, Blue Mountain Review, among others. She has also been published in Duane’s Poetree and also in two anthologies for the Immagine and Poesia group. Her poems are often placed in free online contests My Dream BubbleIn between the many folds of my heart Lies a secret pathway Leading to my hideout My castle Surrounded by a moat inhabited by friendly crocodiles And mountains of candy! There is where I run to Each time I let go of my toils And dare to allow myself To unveil my deepest secrets! Yes, there, I wear dresses made of sparkling dust There, I allow Love to look at me with tenderness While nuzzling my neck and drowning me in kisses There, I become ageless and perfect There, I become a being so complete So engaged in bliss That the world as it is, the world and its hurdles Don’t scare me! In between the many folds of my heart Lies a place, a fortress Which I have dared to create! Pray, should you see not around Do worry not Know that I have left this reality To engage myself in my dream bubble! Truth I search! Why is it that the sun shines for us? Why is it that air breathes around for us? Why is it that the moon glows at night Allowing us to swoon over it? Why are there so cuddly and fuzzy animals For us to pat Why are there fragranced flowers For us to drown our gazes on? Pray, who are we? Humans, made of flesh and blood And with seemingly a power animating us? Who are we And who made us? Why are we loved to such an extent As to be allowed to enjoy the beauties of Earth? Pray, I refuse to follow blindly the path of others I refuse to be like those who conform I am made of quests I live to wonder of these, and of myself I live to see Truth And I know That somehow, someday Truth I shall see! Would it be? Is it too hard to have a mistake forgiven
Is it too hard to love when beauty is not matched Is it too hard to melt the ice away And be lost in an embrace? Why, being a woman compels me to forgive Being a woman compels me to understand Being a woman compels me to be grateful And to appreciate Whichever that may be, from efforts to kindness! But being a woman also naturally directs me to love After all, to forgive, to understand, to be grateful for and To appreciate does mean to love! Why, love, is such a tricky mirage Propelled by life and helped by Cupid It easily traps us in its grip And bids us to believe that it is real! Pray, like one lost in a desert The oasis beckons me Like one lost at sea The far away isle gives me hope Like one lost in a carnage The security of peace tugs at me! Pray, do I wonder then Is it all about being a woman? Keith Burkholder has been published in Creative Juices, Sol Magazine, Trellis Magazine, Foliate Oak Literary Journal, Poetry Quarterly, New Delta Review, and Scarlet Leaf Review. He has a bachelor's degree in statistics with a minor in mathematics from SUNY at Buffalo (UB). God is overrated Think about this for a moment, What has God done for you and I? I mean really, I have never seen God or spoken to him, You think some kind of sign would come out of the sky, Even a flagellation, Yet, people still believe in something they can't see, They still worship him, We live and then we die, Folks, we live and die because we are human organisms, That is what living organisms do, they die, The dinosaurs are gone and same with other species of life, Again, God is overrated, Again, believe what you want, For now, be good and try to pass goodness on to others, Religion and God are overrated and time will continue no matter what, For we are a part of the Earth and our lifespans are limited no matter how you look at it. WHO CARES WHO GETS MARRIED?Enough is enough, Who cares who gets married? Straight or gay, Marriage should about companionship and love a person has for one another, The Bible is written by humans, Humans have a lot of flaws, There are people who are gay who have been in a long term relationship, Prop 8 should end, Everyone should be allowed to get married, I am a bachelor, Marriage, to me, would be a big waste of time, Yet, not for others, We need to accept people as they are, We are well into the 21st century, Change needs to happen, For now, keep an open mind and realize marriage is something everyone should allow to savor and admire, near or afar. Are there really devils in the world?I have never seen a devil, Have you? Religion portrays devils in the Bible, Yet, I have never seen one on plant Earth, Stories and more stories in the Bible, In fact, has anything happened in modern Earth, That has been talked about in the Bible, I have never seen or experienced any of it, Again, science is the answer, Religion likes to use stories a lot, Yet, nothing really changes, So, no, there are no devils, Never will be anyway, For now, just believe in what you want, It is a free world, This is how it is, Again, keep an open mind and let science lead you to a better tomorrow when that happens. Human BehaviorIt has to be linked to evolution,
If it was linked to creationism, We wouldn't have to worry about rules, Namely the police or the military, Humans keep evolving, Could they evolve into better people? I mean considerate of others, This is hard to define, I, for one, am into science, Every time I hear about religion, Nothing makes sense, We as humans are unique, There are simple minded people, And others who are not, Believe in human behavior whichever way you please, That is what makes humans as they are, For now, be good and let goodness spread far and wide as time passes into the future. G. Louis Heath, Ph.D., Berkeley, 1969, is Emeritus Professor, Ashford University, Clinton, Iowa. He enjoys reading his poems at open mics. He has published poems in a wide array of journals. His books include Leaves Of Maple and Long Dark River Casino. Power On The Mountain |
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