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Dilemma of Wit

She says modernity goes
Literature is a collage earthen
New names brought to the village
Hundred years in amnesia

Goodies invent genres
Red peppers the Portuguese brought
British sign posts elongated

A girl was once hired by the company
To rob the miners of their money
Who were caving the longest tunnel in Asia

Vulgarity is the name other of wit
Humor of the sycophant
Freedom of expression espoused well
How we learn languages afar

Islamabad
24/3/2010

poem by Sadiqullah Khan
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Parasitic Sadomasochistic

Living, breathing, eyes stretch outward from this face
Peering ever inwardly, search a searching of this space:

A meaningless collage, without purpose;
void of form, meaningless as a lacking moment
Soon leading only to atonement:

Yet fueled by the anger that wells up within
Sadomasochistic desire
planting the seed, to culture my sin.

Causticly it breeds, spreading -through in- without;
A pirefly of indignant reproach,
Callous with immitation,
A desire,
A child,
Of what hatred is all about.

poem by Josiah Cresswell
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Antiphony

She poses in a provocative way
As she stands on the stage, softly singing.
She, her parochial lyrics, are a
Hollow collage of glittery nothing.
She appears like a detached cherubim
In digitally-enhanced pictures, an
Angel of death in designer denim
Seducing us simply because she can.
Our vacuum-sealed culture serves her as if
She were a porcelain delicacy,
As if she were the filtered anaglyph
Of internet/tabloid intimacy.
Her eyes project a glossy, lifeless stare.
She's no longer a human, but does she care?

poem by Tim Stensloff
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Pictures From The Past

A large collage hangs from my study wall
above my cluttered desk. The photographs
affixed with paste are cleverly arranged.
The colored pictures, twelve in all, fading
and frayed from time. Just seems like yesterday
my wife began the painstaking project.
As I look up and gaze upon her work
I see myself, as I once looked, youthful.
But now the person beholding the scene
is long past middle age -trenches shape the field.
I smile as reverie carries the thoughts
along the frames. Each still photograph
becomes hypnotically animated
Until the memories fade into sleep.

poem by Albert Ahearn
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Growth

An essence defined by a play on words.
A metaphor defined as proper.
The holy and bright.
A guidance upon ones sight.
Can we not see with out it.
Are our voices silenced once it is gone.
As in the grimly awful death.
A collage sits upon this mess.
In the right order one might have success.
From one writing to the next.
Forever stirred in portions large and small.
An emotion splattered upon the page in all red.
And as this rose grows, the green appears in the shape of a stem and thorn.
It came out of no where.
It was of the unborn.
Below the earth eating reserves to escape towards the light.

poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Writing Its Diktat

Beyond the thoughts,
nothing I mourned,
nameless death was writing its diktat.
The dirty epithets were accepted for collage.
Simply a prayer was needed
for a childless truth.
Rudimentary terms owned
a beautiful diction.

The ultimate pain makes you dumb.
Words lose the vision, you walk in a hollow city.
Now is the time to remember the movement of truth
in a jungle of drums.
Eyes must find out the old path.

Huge crowds collect at the door.
Human connections are at strain.
The questions are never answered flawlessly.
Life should not burn like coal,
but be a tree,

[...] Read more

poem by Satish Verma
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Tuesday Fell

Tuesday fell into the ocean
Exhaust pronounced with blackened fumes
Her scissors arms cut through the quarts
That vitrified the verdigris blooms
And while she swam the taxi watched
Falstaffian laugh from the pagoda view
It made her feel like Sundays ruin
Distilled in the platitudinous pews
Overwrought in prosaic charms
Her Romanesque features sad dilute
Coughed between the liquid mounds
Aqua, Cerulean and baby blue
Free sanctuary from the staplers
Scheduled manners in eunuch Suits
Slaves all free in the pawn machines
Weekday mornings to the AM dirge

Now she becomes her own collage

[...] Read more

poem by Kevin Patrick
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Darling

She slips through the gate
Polished in aroma from the Getto

A world tends to be the sun shinning
The eyesore by abated breath

Bi-mouth clears,
Its throat
And voice, craves one's eye
calling aside

Eyes sythesise aviable story
Like a sustainable devep't tread
A trend so far as she passes
Over the love land

Telepathically she comes
And turns her gorgeous face
Awide rim of impulses
Push asurge across that bossom

[...] Read more

poem by Paul Mwenelupembe
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A Threesome

It is nice to observe how two cranky old foes
join together to write a collage,
then decide whether rhyme or that modern day prose
may I mention the French word menage?
It can be any number of poets or duds
who collaborate using their skills
you will see the appearance of early spring buds
as the sun comes to visit the hills.
Let us grab the papyrus, the Metaxa as well
so a poem will rise from the earth
and before we are called to the Heavens or Hell
to a poem of beauty give birth.
A Menage - à - Trois, between H, L and G
ought to bring a new wind to these parts
either limerick or other, but authored by three
may produce a great work for the arts.

poem by Herbert Nehrlich
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Butterfly Dreams

I dream what it would be like to be a Butterfly
See the wonder of their world through a thoughtful eye
Taste the fragrant flowers drink the morning dew
Play around the petals and pollinate a few
I want to witness the magic of Mother Nature’s womb
Be there at the beginning of a futures flower’s bloom
Try to pry the difference between a petal and thorn
Aiding in the arrival of seeds being born
Imagine the vista and the intimate views
The collage of colors and their heavenly hues
What would it be like to wake as something new
Awake from a silken sleep starting life anew
Some dream they’re men that ply special powers
I dream I'm a Butterfly a Fae among the flowers

poem by Ed_ Schmidt
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