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Listen...

There is a knocking in the skull,
An endless silent shout
Of something beating on a wall,
And crying, “Let me out!”

That solitary prisoner
Will never hear reply.
No comrade in eternity
Can hear the frantic cry.

No heart can share the terror
That haunts his monstrous dark.
The light that filters through the chinks
No other eye can mark.

When flesh is linked with eager flesh,
And words run warm and full,
I think that he is loneliest then,
The captive in the skull.

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poem by Ogden Nash
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Mama Is A Crazy Girl

Mama is a crazy girl,
my children sometimes sing;
when Mama dances on the table
snakes hanging from her head.

When Mama's friends wear business suits,
her Mama is the rage
of teenage girls who want her clothes,
tie-dyed, faux fur, and mesh.

Mama is a crazy girl
when she says what's in her heart;
when others only whisper,
Mama can't hold back a shout.

At cocktail parties, mama smiles
and politely chits and chats,
while seeking an accomplice
to make a secret pact -

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poem by L.C. Vieira
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Deborah, I Think You'll Understand

Deborah,
I think you'll understand what I mean
when at night I sleep on the surfaces of books
and dream of paper attics
Through the green mesh of your eyes
I see rooftops of innocence
and hills of joy

O how brilliant you are in the milky moon
O how tender is your walk through my eardrums

I collapse in my drunkenness
and watch the skies of wonder, O Deborah
I kiss the thin fabric of your lips
and journey through your hair

I'm lost, my love, in your negligee
of white horses and silky winds
Teach me the arithmetic of who you are
for I cannot add nor subtract your splendor

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poem by Alexander Shaumyan
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Clari

Too cold, O my brother, too cold for my wife
Is the Beauty you showed me this morning:
Nor yet have I found the sweet dream of my life,
And good-bye to the sneering and scorning.
Would you have me cast down in the dark of her frown,
Like others who bend at her shrine;
And would barter their souls for a statue-like face,
And a heart that can never be mine?
That can never be theirs nor mine.

Go after her, look at her, kneel at her feet,
And mimic the lover romantic;
I have hated deceit, and she misses the treat
Of driving me hopelessly frantic!
Now watch her, as deep in her carriage she lies,
And love her, my friend, if you dare!
She would wither your life with her beautiful eyes,
And strangle your soul with her hair!
With a mesh of her splendid hair.

poem by Henry Kendall
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Child Of Life

A family man made from anarchist.
an honest man made from a narcissist.
How a child changes things.
What was once their is now gone.
Planted in the ground and taken root.
A lost soul not so lost anymore.
What would happen if it was all taken away?
That would be a very dark day. Indeed.
Ripping the heart out and watching it bleed.
A choice within destiny.
Live knowing you know you have nothing left.
Or sacrificing yourself to bring about a greater good.
Blinded by devils mask.
Within the task a question must be asked.
What is it that can be gained?
How difficult is it to look in someone eyes before they die?
Love and hate mesh and merge.
It all converges at the point where one must choose to survive and witness sun die.
Only then will the moon rise.

poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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Poet's Tree

The Poet’s Tree

On the plateau, at distance, I saw a large tree
with multi coloured leaves, on each one was
printed a commercial poem, a verse for every
occasion and written as not to hurt any one’s
feelings. I asked for a poem about unjust wars
in the Middle East, the tree had none but I was
offered a few about World War One. All wars
are just and the winner get to write the rules.

The tree, stood inside rolls of mesh wire, and no
copy pens allowed within a radius of fifty yards.
A storm came, blew the wire around like tumble
weed, leaves- torn from the tree- flew in the air
and transformed into grooming tropical birds
cooing about love. I did find a pale green leaf,
almost transparent, on it was written in blood;
“Gaza is my name let me not die in vain”

poem by Oskar Hansen
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I'm Calling Bullshit!

With my life,
hard blows....

time to go home?
no one really knows...

Back in my youth,
where I thought I've grown.

Same place,
my childhood home.

After two years of figuring it out,
this town is not what i'm all about.

A picture perfect vacation it may seem,
nothing of what I dream.

I want more than how I look naked,
I want more than...

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poem by JAR Poet
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Seeing You Carefully

seeing you carefully is no easy job for me
i do not easily jump into conclusions
lest there be an injustice on the description of who you are

the magnifying glass does not serve any purpose
you are more than the little details scribbled in your skin
something in you slips like a slimy fish, and i am trying to catch it

the fish net is useless, the mesh too large for one as minute as you
you are too small to be caught, too smart for the nylon threads

i try yoga, and in deep meditation i use my mantra, i chant and fall into
a deep sleep, i dream, i go into an astral travel to be with you

and there you are, in the silence of the stars, in the brightness of the moon
your soul, as beautiful as the goddess of secrecy, without flesh, now
as infinite as divine. At the end, i failed to utter your name.,

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Words

Words on this paper
Words in my head
Words while I'm texting
Computing
Unsaid
Words between people
Words on the phone
Words upon words
Even when I'm alone
Words from the Bible
I question
Don't mesh
Words from pornography
Making them flesh
Words with flat letters
Written in black
Good words and bad words
You cannot take back
Words that are shallow
Words that are deep

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poem by Sara Fielder
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Cyberspace

To live in Cyberspace amongst the wireless whizzung binary
Puts a mask upon our face and affords us anonymity 

Its amazing how the jargon travels at the speed of light
So we shouldn't press the send button until constructed right

Some people cyber bully, some  people cyber brag 
Some people cyber buy and sell, and  some just cyber shag

The magic of the net keeps us 'caught up' and collected
It's criss crosses the globe, ensuring loved ones stay connected

Is it safe to live here and frolic in the mesh?
I'd say it's good for humans but it isn't skin and flesh!

Even FaceTime apps and Skype don't have the same appeal 
You can't give hugs in cyberspace, there's just no touchy feel!

I like the world it's opened up, It more than has a place
But let's not get so caught up we forget our open space.

poem by Stevie Taite
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