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One of those days

Although I try I cannot hide,
the fact that I’m dissatisfied
with everyone and everything
Despite the fact that I have tried.

Why it is that life is so unfair.
It sometimes drives me to despair
of everyone and everything
I could give up but I don’t dare.

For everyone depends on me
to provide their security
Yes everyone and everything.
Is this the way that things should be

I suppose I’m entitled to
take a very jaundiced view
of everyone and everything.
When I am feeling sad and blue.

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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Those Tease and Chase Days Are Done

These are not the times,
To hunt to find new places to play...
Old games like hide and seek.
Those tease and chase days are done!
There are very few who still view that as appealing.
Count me in as being among them.

Secrets deployed,
That claws with a grip that rips,
To shred happiness to bits...
Is not the kind of relationship,
I am going to settle for!
Not when I know where all the doors for an exit are.

And to be angered until a steaming bitterness explodes...
Exposing a crazed 'NEGRO'! ?
I would say African-American...
But that might offend some 'blacks' still in indecision.
And I have long stopped pausing to adorn,
A suitable depiction of myself to express disgust.

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Voyages V

Meticulous, past midnight in clear rime,
Infrangible and lonely, smooth as though cast
Together in one merciless white blade-
The bay estuaries fleck the hard sky limits.

-As if too brittle or too clear to touch!
The cables of our sleep so swiftly filed,
Already hang, shred ends from remembered stars.
One frozen trackless smile . . . What words
Can strangle this deaf moonlight? For we

Are overtaken. Now no cry, no sword
Can fasten or deflect this tidal wedge,
Slow tyranny of moonlight, moonlight loved
And changed . 'There's

Nothing like this in the world,' you say,
is Knowing I cannot touch your hand and look
Too, into that godless cleft of sky
Where nothing turns but dead sands flashing.

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poem by Harold Hart Crane
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On This The Third Day Of Winter

On this the third day of Winter the sun it brightly shine
And the yellow tailed black cockatoos on the monterey pine
Grasp the pine cones with their powerful claws and shred them for the seed
And dropp the shredded cones to earth when they have had their feed.

On this the third day of Winter the white backed magpie sing
From branch high on the stringybark his flute like music ring
And on the lush grasses by the pond the dappled wood duck graze
Whilst others of their kin their feathers preen and in the sunshine laze.

On this the third day of Winter the butcherbird's song I hear
And did I not know what time of year it was I'd swear that Spring was here
Two days back the chilly gales blew fierce and the rain came lashing down
And now the sun is shining bright on the paddocks by the Town.

On this the third day of Winter the sun shines in clear sky
And myna with the scratchy song is singing as he fly
And a few days back it rained all day and the gums soughed in the wind
But as Shakespeare once wrote 'If Winter comes can Spring be far behind'

poem by Francis Duggan
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One Sweet Rain

Rain is my teardropp from sky’s glass castles
From heaven it comes to your hands, it slides
It lets you seek white clouds and up the sky
Brush lashes, wipe eyes, each time you cry

Rain reminds you of a Great God, who cares
It lets you feel my love, it whispers nigh
How I adore, I keep your every kiss
In my heart, when it rains, our love’s a bliss!

Rain, drops in the fields in time of sorrow
Fill hearts with hope now and tomorrow
Wash white as snow, tender, pure and fragrant
The angels chant in the drum strings of rain

Rainbows form; magenta, pink, and blue
Connecting valleys, cliffs, and mountains
Splatter in river, shred showers of falls
A baptism sudden in the dessert, calls

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poem by Rose Flores Rosevoc2
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Melting Icebergs

One day...
When the joy of observing others,
Suffer from our aggressions
Have lost their appetite...
We will discover our ambitions have diminished!
And we have had no other purposes to live
But to believe God thought of us as so special
As to bestow upon us with the kind of power
To produce our own self destruction!

Only to find that we blame HIM...
Or HER
Or IT
Or THAT!
For not paying attention to the 'signs' that warn us...
Our egos will never be satisfied,
Until we completely destroy the Earth.

Because 'someone'...
Somewhere

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Ballade Of Sleep

The hours are passing slow,
I hear their weary tread
Clang from the tower, and go
Back to their kinsfolk dead.
Sleep! death's twin brother dread!
Why dost thou scorn me so?
The wind's voice overhead
Long wakeful here I know,
And music from the steep
Where waters fall and flow.
Wilt thou not hear sue, Sleep?

All sounds that might bestow
Rest on the fever'd bed,
All slumb'rous sounds and low
Are mingled here and wed,
And bring no drowsihed.
Shy dreams flit to and fro
With shadowy hair dispread;
With wistful eyes that glow,

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poem by Andrew Lang
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Geraldine

My head is filled with olden rhymes beside this moaning sea,
But many and many a day has gone since I was dear to thee!
I know my passion fades away, and therefore oft regret
That some who love indeed can part and in the years forget.
Ah! through the twilights when we stood the wattle trees between,
We did not dream of such a time as this, fair Geraldine.
I do not say that all has gone of passion and of pain;
I yearn for many happy thoughts I shall not think again!
And often when the wind is up, and wailing round the eaves,
You sigh for withered Purpose shred and scattered like the leaves,
The Purpose blooming when we met each other on the green;
The sunset heavy in your curls, my golden Geraldine.

I think we lived a loftier life through hours of Long Ago,
For in the largened evening earth our spirits seemed to grow.
Well, that has passed, and here I stand, upon a lonely place,
While Night is stealing round the land, like Time across my face;
But I can calmly recollect our shadowy parting scene,
And swooning thoughts that had no voice — no utterance, Geraldine.

poem by Henry Kendall
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Semantics Of Animal Objectification

to bag: verb for to kill a deer or other animal
to harvest: verb for to kill an elk or other animal
cull: a 3rd verb for murdering animals
thin the herd: phrase for murdering animals
pork: objectivist term for subdivided murdered pigs
beef.: objectivist term for subdivided murdered cows
mutton: objectivist term for subdivided murdered sheep
veal: objectivist term for a baby cow's murdered flesh
pate: objectivist term for the smashed livers of tortured geese
The word bovine is struck from tuberculosis to obscure
the disease causing nature of cows' milk
Kine Pox or Cow Pox: changed to smallpox to obscure
the eating of cowflesh as an origin of the disease
Wool Sorters' Disease.. changed to anthrax
study: verb for kidnapping, torturing and murdering lab animals
pith: to shove a needle into the brain of a living frog
field dress: to remove the skin from a mammal, pull out his
intestines etc.
stock market: term for many corporations invested in animal
and people slaughter

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poem by Anna Hridaya
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Blood Ties Between Them

If blood ties between them,
Have left some to feel...
They experience broken vessels.
This can be mended,
With steps of further prevention.
But it has to be admitted,
That an emptiness exists within.
Only then can a healing begin!
If blood ties between them,
Have left some to feel...
They experience broken vessels.
And this sometimes is defended.
With a continued dripping,
Seeping from a strength...
That eventually weakens,
An enlightenment that heightens.
Defeating the intention meant,
To heal all wounds to bond a growth.
Mentioned to be needed but gone unknown.
Withering the bloom of the branch that dies.

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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