Read Poetry: Desert Lamentations II, by David Oscarson

I would rather spend time on this desert landscape watching the clouds roll by overhead than try to understand the roots of society spread out all over the earth.
With all the distractions of modern society we are losing sight of meaningful lifelong satisfactions and good conversation.
There seems to be a select few who are attempting to influence our lives with the assistance of technology while leading us down pathways with unknown or unfavorable consequences.
They are not keepers of the flock, but merely interlopers who are gaining unwanted influences over our lives through their covert actions.
Will these select few lead us into dark places from which there is no return, and is it too late to turn back from the courses many of us have taken?
It is up to us to determine where this digital future is heading, and take appropriate action.

Website: http://www.djoart.com

POETRY READING: Demoiselle, by James Morgan-Jones

Performed by Allison Kampf

Demoiselle, by James Morgan-Jones

Let’s be direct: Beautiful Demoiselle.
What naming could be apter? In noon-light
a sliver of midnight blue comes spinning
from Hades’ palette, frailly fluttering,
a butterfly blue from the underworld.
Yet not quite: no sheer lepidopteran
makes this skittery, whirligig descent,
achieves in repose such sleek elegance.

He rests like a svelte blue pin, superbly
singular, wings deep-dipped in indigo:
pure concept lodged brilliant in spinel.
Such exquisite difference brings profound
gratification, a joy extinguished
in the homogenised world we fashion.

When I dream I’ll drink some of his lustre,
bask in the resplendence of my colours –
what flagrant beauty then in dynamism,
such glory mirrored in heaven’s dark glass.

Read Poem: ACORN…, by Valerie Yvette Peterson

Slowly, it detached itself from the branch,
just as a butterfly does its cocoon no longer needed;
there was once a connection.

But there it fell, so quietly and calmly;
brown, crispy, crinkled now and not like the rest that were beautiful and green,
for it is time to wither away and to fall;
but while doing so, is very poised and at ease, as if longing and wishing for this moment.
Gracefully, it strokes the cool crisp wind as it succumbs peacefully to the ground.
But there it lies, hopeless…
as, It became I !
I now must breathe life and remember my foliage!
I must blossom from my hurt,
from my pain, and
I must begin to shear so I can prune and pare.
This is the beginning of my repair,
as
I AM AN ACORN NOW!

My re-watering must begin and the re-planting has to resurface,
As I must gather and reap
so I can begin the re-harvesting of my crop!
But then…
I fall again, as I remember my pain and my hurt.
I return to it and it is too much for me once again…
there it lies, hopeless, no more life…Lifeless now
Atlast…no more waiting to be crushed by the footsteps of life’s wanderers…

Read Poem: Intently Examining…, by Minah Jacobson

Today, I woke up after an astronomical snooze of 11 hours.
I had already broken said experience once throughout the night, though.
Approximately 2:41-2:46 AM, I rose.
Bursting through the door, to release my “only human” bladder; how comical.

I just killed a fruit fly, and to my amazement, I wasn’t phased.

Just like this, everything differs. Now you’re probably wondering overall, what differs in killing a fruit fly? The method in which you go about it, the momentum of your grip, the intensity of your squeeze – or the thoughts throughout? For me within this instance, ‘Twas the ladder. Gratefully enough, it was not a juxtaposition. I sought to do it, and my actions fulfilled said desire. This is where it differs; usually, when it comes to ending the life of another, regardless of its form, I feel remorse and question whether it’s worthwhile or not. Inevitably it isn’t, although acceptably it is when a mosquito is sucking the literal blood out from your meat suit.

I understand how horrid, when out of context, that the last sentences can sound. “When it comes to ending the life of another”… In my realm of things, this specifically pertains to insects. Unless for a means of absolute survival, I could not and would not end the life of any sentient life form. This is an interesting one to ponder, whilst heading forth through the cycle of ones day to day. Alongside, a plethora of other concepts. Contemplate it! How ironically enough, one ponders how they lack the time and or means to ponder… When truly within the instant – you are fulfilling the thing you are questioning. I suppose one could say this is nearly a form of manifestation. Who am I to be said, “one” who could say such a thing, I ask myself. As I type away to the nonsensical existence of my keyboard. Witnessing the chirping and clicking of the keys – formulating what derives from within, into a tangible form which now exists among the physical reality.

This morning, June 30th of 2020, I woke up to my other dog barking at my roommate heading out for work.

In other words, I woke up in a fit of fright; triggers ignited, senses overloaded. Abolishing any means of conjoining my internal fleets in preparation to head forth into another day of the uphill battle. My internal shelves were dismantled; leaving me vulnerable for defeat. Though every person is inevitably perishable, we each share an uncanny ability as well. The knack of perseverance brings into oneself, the light of possibility and potential. Traversing an instinctive reaction, perseverance clasps onto the finite details of one’s insight and carries the subconscious along; igniting correlation with one’s conscience. Absolute duality, headed forth brilliantly; fight or flight becoming the new node. Each intermingling, your psyche questions sensory overload. How will you react? Well, this depends on the accumulated amount of unaddressed aspects of the self. Which exactly? Darling, it is so individualistic to each being. If it were able to be summarized, the dictionary wouldn’t exist.

At the wake of existence, each of us decidedly came here. Whether downtrodden or purely uplifted. It all pans out.

Website: complexminds.weebly.com
Instagram: complexminds.poetry
Facebook: complexerr

Read Poetry: COVID 19: The End or the Beginning?, by Anjana Dutta

LIFE before was a race!
The worldly goods and possessions, we would chase!
But these unpredictable days taught us to not run in a race but to live in the ‘phase’.

The use of internet to this extent could never have been thought!
Meetings from offices, meaningful lessons from institutions, to home it brought.
Corona, a devastation everywhere to be seen OR a virus that has come to clean?
Too many countries are on lockdown,
And see the change- our mother nature is now clean and wearing a crown!

And paradise changing to graveyards?
People are struggling, no food to feed the masses?
Humans are caged and places are shut down,
But animals are moving freely in the town.

I’m thankful to the people who take risk for us,
Let’s pray for these people who are doctors, saviours and the real warriors.
In light of the troubles we have today,
There are a few things I would like to say;

Social distancing must be embraced
For the virus to get completely erased.
Let’s love things a little more,
Let’s value our nature to the core;

Appreciate the skills we have found in us.
Let’s stay strong and not make a fuss.
This deadly virus is not less than a battleground for us,
Let’s fight, overcome obstacles and achieve success!

Read Poetry: Live Again, Anika Anderson

Alive but not living
Surviving but not thriving
Wearing masks, hiding identities
Controlled but not in control
Conforming to roles, titles and positions
Giving all but feeling empty
The meaning of me lost
A life summed
On that precipice of life, I awakened to a revelation
That the the key to me was found in my Creator
The Creator and His creation a relationship never fully explored
So I began seeking to know and understand
About my purpose and design in His master plan
What I discovered was peace, love , joy, trust and intimacy with Him
Most of all I discovered how to live again

Anika Anderson ©

Read Poem: The Past Ain’t Obsolete, by Isiah Lea

Master your metric
Live by your code

Some hearts just twisted
Most stuck stone cold

Petrified then replicated
Stoic and configurated

Equity no justice
Colour ain’t liberated

Black a shade
Confusion parade

Kinda like how
we treated each day

Cant see all thoughts
That ripple this way

Stipple your tat
Your symbol must
light way

You’re fine you’re okay
Resilient hurray

Every person seeing suffering
Desentised one way

Glad my wifi shit
Keep it buffering, dont play

First world; Sounds naive
Proud nationalistic history
Built upon slaves

From continent to continent
Or mostly stolen from one

So many homelands
Different brands or scars

Intersectionality infinite
Shattered snowflakes so scorned

Generationally even
Before you were born

Recycled spirit
Volitale, worn

Born from water
Warm to cold

Too many grow frozen
Before their life truly torn

Read Poetry: ONE, by Destiny Premo

From the beginning into now,
We felt something more,
When a feeling turns to passion,
Nothing is like it was before.

A unity blessed by the universe,
As now the stars aline.
From that day forward, side by side,
Your hand intertwined with mine.

We are but only one breath,
Our hearts beat as one.
Facing the darkness together,
Brighter than the sun.

So walk with me, my love,
There’s no need to fuss,
Life is the journey we share,
The world belongs to us.

Love will see us through,
Love will always defend.
When it comes to our love,
There will be no end.

Our spirits conformed to one,
we have been set free.
The world we leave behind,
Cannot match our eternity.

Read Poetry: Passing, by Paul O’Donnell

So much is broken
I despair
he says passing out from lack of air
It was no more than a passing dream to think
the passing of a law could mean passing through the past
The inciting incident, the protagonist’s resolve to repair
ignorance fear and anger living side by side in liminal space stretched.
Searching for the prophylactic fountain to wash away despair
Farfetched
But passing laws passed through the fragile membrane made of the
dreams of gilded fossils giving
no more than a passing glance
with few words passing between them.
How could it not be broken?
Only the words Black Lives Matter, matter
No forgiveness can be asked. Forgiving is an act of power bestowed
granted by the weak with feelings of remorse
Atone is at and one
there the difference lies.
© pod