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December, Mid-Day

On this day that has lost its mindfulness
Of blossom and aromatic fecundity
Of casual life, splurging its vitality
On birdsong and squirrelish chatter,
I am waiting for a break in the clouds.

This day has long since lost
A fresh blanket of snow to the
Skirlling tires and plodding pedestrians
Huddled in down and Dacron
As they battle the Chicago chill.

The streets resemble the bottom
Of a Pickwickian gruel bowl, grey
And slimy - none to appetizing -
Warmth drained (though every mouth
Smokes out exhausted air) .

I am left staring at the sky,
Hoping the ubiquitous dinge

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poem by Robert J Meyer
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In Times Of War

Of all what is done in times of war!
Tell, fell, knell, well, cell, dell, hell, jell, quell, sell, and yell;
But the windows of the heavens are watching us all.

Of all what is done in times of war!
Bow, sow, how, now, wow, tow, cow, low, row, vow;
And like the negative minds of the people around us,
But we will all be judged one day.

Of all what is done in times of war!
Mind, find, wind, hind, kind, rind, bind;
But why kill your neighbour when we need peace?

Of all what is done in times of war!
Tore, sore, bore, more, lore, core, fore, gore, pore, wore, yore;
But the windows of the heavens are watching us.

Of all what is done in times of war!
Fuel, cruel, duel, gruel;
But who bore you and brought you forth? ! !

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poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Poets Creed

Though I may be tempted
I shall not fall below
to gravities;

dive beneath life's geography
to Depression's
crevice
and ravine.

I shall not sip Dark Sufferings-
Edgar Allen Poe elixirs;
unredemptive dark poetries.

I will not cuddle dread,
or slurp Death's Gruel.
I will stand up to
wily winds.

I will not paper mache
enthusiasms

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poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Intolerance Part III: The St Bartholomew's Day Massacre

1572 A.D. Paris.

Brown Eyes, make me your goodnight kiss.
This last time, with the flames of life alight,
kiss me now and say goodnight,
a hand which marked so cruel,
the water soup and the morning gruel,
say goodnight and you shall see,
the gates of heaven crossed with keys.

The stars wrapped up in velvet arms,
the silver globe will be wet with tears,
your pale hand will sweep the brooks and rivers,
where the fairies cross and the creatures mix,
the nymph which lives amongst the moss.
All shall weep and bow as you pass
when the Queen of Angels breaths her last.

The tap on your door tells me our time is up.

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poem by Ross Mackay
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Dark Black Night

Once upon a midnight, ghostly,
Partied many, dead ones mostly.
Feasting in the graveyard, sprightly,
Black fanged werewolves gorged, engrossedly*.

In the boneyard, drab and squalid
Apparitions, staring stolid
(Neath the veiled moon, clouded lightly)
Sought fresh bodies, lean but solid.

Demons' eyes shone, light and sparkly,
Ghouls and devils danced, so darkly.
Worms were grubbing, gruel unsightly,
Black blood streamed like ink, quite starkly.

Fiendish flesh was flowing freely
Through the crypt doors, cold and steely.
Shadows, ashen, pranced contritely,
Ebon serpents slithered eely.

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poem by Terry O'Leary
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Grief Abidding

It was that
Grief seldom had enough of her;
it took more than its due
leaving her often times over-filled with
dried up tears
in too many places.

Grief took her first child
and she weathered this.

Born in the breast of poverty
she endured nonetheless;

Wombed out in the wrong family
a stranger among them born,
she endured
til the road took her out and away
to college realms;
there
pounded by experience to Tragedy

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poem by Lonnie Hicks
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(Religious&Life Poem) Bliss of A Infinite Utopia

He unites the people with a common cause.
He claims to be the savior predisposed to what you want.
But again he's not.
World peace under one rule.
I believe their is no such thing.
So I say no.
I will not follow your rules and eat gruel.
Put down like a bad child.
Here's you spanking if you please.
Nobody get's me.
I'm so stripped, I stand in nakedness and I don't care.
Let them strike me dead.
Or let no one listen.
Either way being the same.
I'm just a number and a name.
A label intertwined into the chaos of the world.
A digit that must be dug deep to find.
Become of pigs or swine.
A thirst inside drives me.
To say hello.

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poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Human Seeds

She didn't have the best mind in the class
she knew that;
nor the prettiest face.
She couldn't play the clown-make people laugh
and she was not the one to understate
thoughts and feelings
on specific things.

She moved among her contemporaries
unseen, untouched
not noticed
nor scorned
but not given either
much respect.

She didn't dance-
too much exposure there-
and her body often betrayed
her lack of balance
and too

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poem by Lonnie Hicks
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The Two MP's

MAGAZINE PUBLISHER AND MEMBER OF PARLIAMENT)

BEING A TRUE AND PARTICULAR ACCOUNT OF THE GRAND MILLING MATCH THAT DIDN'T TAKE PLACE

SAYS Tom D-- to F--r
T'other morning, 'I say, Sir,
You've call'd me a Roué, a Dicer, and Racer,
Now I'd have you to know, Sir,
Such names are "No Go," Sir;
By Jove, Sir, I never knew anything grosser.

'And then Madame --
Extremely distrest is
At your calling her Lais -- she's more like Thalestris,
As you'll find, my fine joker,
If once you provoke her,
She's a d--l if once she gets hold of a poker.

'For myself, to be candid,
And not underhanded,

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poem by Richard Harris Barham
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Sperminator

'sperminator', sperm, man, men, perms, pets, am, in, it, is, eat, tea, tar, seat, era, into, an;
And like the time of the wheat harvest!
But you do really resemble my mother.

'Sperminator', art, part, set, rats, ants, tears, ears, pears, sear, main, same, sore, tore, sort;
And like the time of the wheat harvest!
But you do really resemble my sister.

'Sperminator', ten, tan, nets, neat, near, stream, teams, means, sap, raps, times, mates, sit;
And like the time of the wheat harvest!
But you fo really resemble my brother.

'Sperminator', trips, sip, tips, nips, pins, maps, pans, naps, rear, sport, pots, tapes, pore, as;
And like the time of the wheat harvest!
But you really resemble my friend.

'Sperminator', some, mine, into, spot, reaps, pits, at, rapes, tops, rims, ate, sea, sat, more;
And like the time of the wheat harvest!
But you really resemble my neighbour.

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poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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