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Stardust

Ah high flyin highway mist
Tran
-ce-
(s)
-lucent
i
q
u
i
d of
S(s) P(p) A(a) C (c) E(e)

stardusts orange vapor: : : :
...now receding...off...towards some faraway
fiery conquest …
the horizons invisible duel
Roadside window passing reflections
like a double edge sword of silk and flame
over the old corn row country road
Love's unseen aura penetrating

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poem by Gregory Allen Uhan
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Res Ipsa Loquitor (2)

let the poems
without mouths
and teeth
without lips
and tongue

let these poems
speak for themselves
let them be
take them for whatever they are
their appearances
let them smell the way they exude themselves
let them be
let their essence be within themselves

even without our own thoughts impressing
imposing dictating
destroying
annihilating

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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Fruit of Lascivious

Fruit of Lascivious

Let us again turn about from far reaching heaven
Where charmed performer fruits of lascivious are death makers;
Adam pushed of heaven, who wants to die going there then
I think you constantly like hell the universe.

Where charmed performer fruits of lascivious are death makers
Staying at that heaven without accord is meaningless
I think you constantly like hell the universe
I keep my head on your lap because of love ness.

Staying at that heaven without accord is meaningless
Chastised away from heaven the universe like hell
I keep my head on your lap because of love ness
Desire of love glorified brightened world as well.

Chastised away from heaven the universe like hell
Semen comes of making love makes arrangement of creation
Desire of love glorified brightened world as well.

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poem by Bongokobida Zakaria
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Plastic Pity

Within some minds,
It is okay to be criticized.
And in some minds closed and confined...
What others do to them,
Is perfectly fine.

And yet there are those minds,
Behind times trying to define...
How best to belittle,
With a showing of unconsiousness...
A plastic pity that will fit,
All occasions that will suit...
A showing of a care-less-ness,
So obvious and with no regret.

With their noses in the air...
They plastic pity.
They dare to play it really fair,
With their plastic pity.
They careless who is there to spare,

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Snowin

Dey is snow upon de meddahs, dey is snow upon de hill,
An' de little branch's watahs is all glistenin' an' still;
De win' goes roun' de cabin lak a sperrit wan'erin' 'roun'.
An' de chillen shakes an' shivahs as dey listen to de soun'.
Dey is hick'ry in de fiahplace, whah de blaze is risin' high,
But de heat it meks ain't wa'min' up de gray clouds in de sky.
Now an' den I des peep outside, den I hurries to de do',
Lawd a mussy on my body, how I wish it would n't snow!

I kin stan' de hottes' summah, I kin stan' de wettes' fall,
I kin stan' de chilly springtime in de ploughland, but dat's all;
Fu' de ve'y hottes' fiah nevah tells my skin a t'ing,
W'en de snow commence a-flyin', an' de win' begin to sing.
Dey is plenty wood erroun' us, an' I chop an' tote it in,
But de t'oughts dat I 's a t'inkin' while I 's wo'kin' is a sin.
I kin keep f'om downright swahin' all de time I 's on de go,
But my hea't is full o' cuss-wo'ds w'en I's trampin' thoo de snow.

What you say, you Lishy Davis, dat you see a possum's tracks?
Look hyeah, boy, you stop yo' foolin', bring ol' Spot, an' bring de ax.

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poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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The Morning Quatrains

THE cock has crow'd an hour ago,
'Tis time we now dull sleep forego;
Tir'd Nature is by sleep redress'd,
And Labour's overcome by rest.
We have out-done the work of Night,
'Tis time we rise t'attend the Light,
And e'er he shall his beams display,
To plot new bus'ness for the Day.
None but the slothful, or unsound,
Are by the Sun in feathers found,
Nor, without rising with the Sun,
Can the world's bus'ness e'er be done.
Hark! Hark! the watchful Chanticler
Tells us the Day's bright harbinger
Peeps o'er the eastern hills, to awe
And warm night's sov'reign to withdraw.
The morning curtains now are drawn,
And now appears the blushing dawn;
Aurora has her roses shed,
To strew the way Sol's steeds must tread.

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poem by Charles Cotton
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The Van Nessiad

From end to end, thine avenue, Van Ness,
Rang with the cries of battle and distress!
Brave lungs were thundering with dreadful sound
And perspiration smoked along the ground!
Sing, heavenly muse, to ears of mortal clay,
The meaning, cause and finish of the fray.

Great Porter Ashe (invoking first the gods,
Who signed their favor with assenting nods
That snapped off half their heads-their necks grown dry
Since last the nectar cup went circling by)
Resolved to build a stable on his lot,
His neighbors fiercely swearing he should not.
Said he: 'I build that stable!' 'No, you don't,'
Said they. 'I can!' 'You can't!' 'I will!' 'You won't!'
'By heaven!' he swore; 'not only will I build,
But purchase donkeys till the place is filled!'
'Needless expense,' they sneered in tones of ice
'The owner's self, if lodged there, would suffice.'
For three long months the awful war they waged:

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poem by Ambrose Bierce
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An Allegory On Man

A thoughtful Being, long and spare,
Our Race of Mortals call him Care:
(Were Homer living, well he knew
What Name the Gods have call'd him too)
With fine Mechanick Genius wrought,
And lov'd to work, tho' no one bought.

This Being, by a Model bred
In Jove's eternal sable Head,
Contriv'd a Shape impow'rd to breathe,
And be the Worldling here beneath.

The Man rose staring, like a Stake;
Wond'ring to see himself awake!
Then look'd so wise, before he knew
The Bus'ness he was made to do;
That pleas'd to see with what a Grace
He gravely shew'd his forward Face,
Jove talk'd of breeding him on high,
An Under-something of the Sky.

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poem by Thomas Parnell
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Dr. Parnel To Dr. Swift, On His Birth-day, November 30th, MDCCXIII

Urg'd by the warmth of Friendship's sacred flame,
But more by all the glories of thy fame;
By all those offsprings of thy learned mind,
In judgment solid, as in wit refin'd,
Resolv'd I sing: Tho' lab'ring up the way
To reach my theme, O Swift, accept my lay.

Rapt by the force of thought, and rais'd above,
Thro' Contemplation's airy fields I rove;
Where pow'rful Fancy purifies my eye,
And lights the beauties of a brighter sky;
Fresh paints the meadows, bids green shades ascend,
Clear rivers wind, and op'ning plains extend;
Then fills its landscape thro' the vary'd parts
With Virtues, Graces, Sciences, and Arts:
Superiour Forms, of more than mortal air,
More large than mortals, more serenely fair.
Of these two Chiefs, the guardians of thy name,
Conspire to raise thee to the point of fame.
Ye Future Times, I heard the silver sound!

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poem by Thomas Parnell
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Hitched

An'—wilt—yeh—take—this—woman—fer—to—be
Yer—wed ded—wife?— . . . O, strike me! Will I wot?
Take 'er? Doreen? 'E stan's there arstin' me!
As if 'e thort per'aps I'd rather not!
Take 'er? 'E seemed to think 'er kind was got
Like cigarette-cards, fer the arstin'. Still,
I does me stunt in this 'ere hitchin' rot,
An' speaks me piece: 'Righto!' I sez, 'I will.'

'I will,' I sez. An' tho' a joyful shout
Come from me bustin' 'eart—I know it did
Me voice got sorter mangled comin' out,
An' makes me whisper like a frightened kid.
'I will,' I squeaks. An' I'd 'a' give a quid
To 'ad it on the quite, wivout this fuss,
An' orl the starin' crowd that Mar 'ad bid
To see this solim hitchin' up of us.

'Fer—rich-er—er—fer—poorer.' So 'e bleats.
'In—sick-ness—an'—in—'ealth,' . . . An' there I stands,

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poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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