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Resilience in Roots! !

The promising gospel of human resiliency
Survived plagues extended in decades,
Overcame the droughts of year's continual.
Mankind has ricochet devils of its time
But for idiocy, I find reluctance eternal,
Its immensity vast & vastness perpetual.

Withdraw to bedrock, recede to roots
Only means to salvation from ruins n dooms,
Have read in histories, is the observation of times.
Future is always a continuation of present,
With past intact for lessons; inherited in dimes
Tower must be build but foundation s Prime.

poem by Samima Shah
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The Hero Within

Limit yourself to the easy
and the difficult you'll never try.
Easys need live on the fringe of the world
grubbing for nickels and dimes,
Claiming that life has dealt a cruel blow;
crying: the fault is not mine.
Heros need training to do the grand deeds
that earn them a hero's acclaim
It's setting your eye on the hero inside,
knowing you're fair to the game.
Knowing you've got what it takes to be tough
no matter how rough life may be.
I'm a hero, I know it! When my actions show it
it's because I'm a hero to me.

poem by Adeline Foster
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Bought And Sold

feathers and Bibles,
the priests of rhetoric
masturbate in hidden rooms,

by the bodies of young boys,
the price paid without doubt.
the neon screen blares,

cancer has a new name...
dressed in pride and patriotism.
street vendors passing laws,

feed the monkies!
the truth is
it's all a lie!

they drink martinis behind smoked glass,
sell the souls of the poor
to pay the rent!

[...] Read more

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Power up-cauchy3

Power up….
Clocked on backs are clap by caps.
HELLA means are dickens mad.
Paltry sums are pal on poor.
Back up off are human tools.

Dimes on tables get the mirrors.
Power odds are major minor.
Weights of flames are fires with dusts.
Gears are games and power up.

Powers up hoist the host.
Powers up are men to hold.
Power up that come the gears.
Sparks up guns are bust with earths.

Ghetto loves have visa needs.
Power sources go to heels.
Give a bill the power pass.
Kill by bolts with plenty man.

[...] Read more

poem by Cheung Shun Sang
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Dark And Hungry

Dark and hungry,
i grope for your mouth,
swallowing lava burnt air,
lips blistered with prayer.
ducks quacking in flight,

Nickels and dimes in the ashtray...
a song on the radio,
cant remember the name.
hands shake just a little,
unbuttoning your shirt.
a small trail of sweat
between your breasts disappears.

You breathing in gasps,
or not breathing at all....
slide my hand to your longing,
tilt your head, close your eyes...

Grey clouds on the horizon,

[...] Read more

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Before I Offer to Treat

The nights
Keep my days in perspective.
I know what my wants and needs are.
But the interviewing process
Is limited to who I'd like to share
Those moments with!
I'm not that easy.
I'm not going to settle just for anyone
Who may be standing by the cooler,
And looking like a fool for me!
Hopefully...
That will be on a pay day.
It's easier to conduct an interview
With change in my pocket.
And looking through the snack machine,
With more than two dimes to squeeze together...
Before I offer to treat!
Someone has to appreciate...
I am going through that kind of trouble!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Night School in lower depths

The drug addict teacher comes with pornography
And sits on a desk half drunk.
'Hey! You idiot clean the black board.
The idiot stumbles with the matured students his equals
Quarters, Dimes, Nickels and pennies
And he cleans it seems..
Then the teacher asked him to write a sad but a correct sentence.
'No chalk.'
'Then bring it soon.'
He went to the next door pub and had a gulp of cheap liquor returned with a piece of chalk.
He writes; I skipped my golden school days and went for movies, ran behind the stars to get their signatures.
Now I learn from my mistakes
How to sign myself.

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Waiting For The Spider

how many small deaths?
nickels and dimes in dust filled pockets...
are we drifting off to sleep?
out to sea?
or further from the core?
we die in circles,
circles within circles.
with small short breaths hurled
on the hairy plate of eternity.
a thousand tiny fires,
built by unseen hands
on darkened roads...
a thousand tiny deaths!
or a thousand stop the world kisses,
when names and identities are forgotten,
if but for an eternal moment.
how many times must i be the butterfly?
the snail? the hummingbird flying backwards?
or just stagnant water in a cast aside tire...
waiting for the spider?

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Busy As The Greed of Thieves Were Fed!

Dominated by perceptions and imagination...
Their steps taken to investigate truth,
Have been few if any.

They have been raised to praise visuals.
And the effectiveness of gloss on glimmer.
Waxed to shine upon their ideals.

Delusions have run out of their polish.
Few remain who faithfully keep them.
Dimes and nickles pinched...
Take the place of rolled tossed pennies.

Terrorists alerts are now focused on Wall Street.
Where the enemies have depleted funds.
While racist tactics were used to keep everyone...
Busy as the greed of thieves were fed!
Now keeping those awake...
In fear of themselves instead!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Why I Love My Sister!

this is dedicated to my sister Joana fula.

I love my sister because she is crazy, hyper, funny, I love my sister because no matter what she is always there for me.
She is a friend that helps me in my difficult times.
Her comforting words are worth much more than dimes
for me she is a blessing, who fills my heart with love and joy.
A companion to who I can express my feelings,
Whether I am having my ups or downs,
She always helps me with a smile and never frowns.
Having a sister for me is not just a trend, It's a blessing
& knowing that I can always turn to her, my best friend.

I love you Joana Fula

poem by Lucia Domingos Fula
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