the Garden, Poetry by Johnny Solstice

 GENRE: POLITICS, ECOLOGY,

The garden’s overgrown now
The poppies gone to seed
The flowerbeds run over
And all is choked by weeds

No-ones done the pruning
And the pond is stagnant slime
The brambles are encroaching
Too late for weeding time

The fields have gone to fallow
The veg no longer food
The fruit has started rotting
And the bees have left for good

The birds no longer singing
The river has dried up
Nothing is worth eating
And nowt is safe to sup

There’s autumn leaves in springtime
Desolation all around
There is no milk and honey
Or beauty to be found

Outside the gates of Eden
Adam sits and weeps
An aching in his ribcage
An apple at his feet
BY JOHNNY SOLSTICE

 

 

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Richest Nation, Poetry by Donna Roberts

 
Genre: Political, Rhyme

Oh, A Nation of Assault
Whilst we’re all in default

Reminiscent of former cataclysm
Government locked the vault
how much longer shall we wait
as the grey haired fools debate
Listening to the tale of jobs they will avail

A generation of innovation is at hand
will they listen
So prosperity can expand
the families suffer
with little buffer

When healthcare is in despair
and college loans unfair
Senior citizens living on a prayer
Its hard to be aware
Do you Dare?
Do you Dare?

Corporate Greed is how they feed
starts as a seed, becomes a need
Dictate Dictate Dictate
Then they turn the table and
give the activist a label

They wont be happy till they are done
When no one can afford to have fun
There’s a lot pain
When your at the bottom of the food chain
In the richest nation in the world!
 

 

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A Psalm of exhortation written…, Poetry by Marc Libidinsky

 Genre: Spiritual, Religion Poetry

(Formal Acrostic with Feminine Endings)

…Before the New Year.

Call upon the LORD, dear saints,
Doing honor to His name;
Elevate the name of Jesus,
Finish your race without a stain.

God, the creator of us all,
Has called us to proclaim,
Imploring by the love He gives,
“Jesus Christ will save!”

Kiss the Son lest He be angry –
Lest He find you burning up;
More, the pity if you love sin –
Nothing will save a froward tongue!

Open up your door to Heaven,
Place your heart upon the sill;
Quiet all your rebel thinking,
Run to the door, He’s knocking still!

Say to Him, “Please forgive me?”,
Tell Him nothing – He’ll tell you;
Unless you’re found insincere, and
Vain is the word ‘Lord’ in His ear.

Welcome Him with trembling questions,
‘Xalt Him with this simple praise,
“You are the One we will wait for –
Zion rejoices in Your grace!”

 

 

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The Angel of Neverland, Poetry by Jeffrey Brugger Jr

 genre: Love/Fantasy

I knew this beautiful girl when I was a lost boy. A beautiful girl like those you see in those paintings. My first love. My first feeling for a another person.

She was a pretty girl who stole my heart when I was a young boy. She wasn’t from Neverland. She flew here from some place far away. She showed me what love was.

That was years ago. A few nights after she left the angels took her away while she was asleep. Now she flies above the clouds & when the stars are shining bright some nights I see her face in the stars. One day I’ll join you above the clouds.

 

 

 

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GATEWAY TO A NEW WORLD, Poetry by Coni Koepfinger

Genre: Enlightenment

as I enter the Temple
I recognize familiar faces
resonating energies
conforming to reform me
so I may move on the next level
vibration of enlightenment
sustained to call me to service
frequencies of others worlds
yet all multiples are one
within the singularity
and multiplicity of meaning
now between dimensions
stars glistening in the abyss
points of reference for reflection
i see a universe
within the heart of my own being
fractals of passion pouring forth
physically from within
alerting me to new meanings
of creation of creation of creation
creating reality within one world
creates the existence in all
for all impulses of divinity
are threaded like diamonds on a strand
worn upon the neck of time
my soul feels restless longing
for a playmate in the singularity
logic disappears and is irrelevant here
the endless reality must intersect
to manifest the intersection is to
manifest the self in between
the intersections of the others
which are all part of the one

 

 

 

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Stealth Horse, Poetry by PV Harrington

 
Genre: ‘Nature’ and ‘Change’
 
The hooker’s green ivy creeps underground
With Friday revelations,
Stripping carpet moss from oak braille.
On sub-auburn pathways.

Stealth horse chestnuts lie in wait
for dimpled future homewreckers,
stripling shapeshifters,
who slowly learn not to jump for joy.

You think of forest fires, a cleansing autumn pyre
for your imprinted saffron monk.
The hebeloma puberty fringe asks loaded questions
For which each generation must fall.

And now you seek the magpie’s mate,
chasing something black and white
through dog violet, bog orchid,
butterwort and ball moss –
the florid expletives
crushed underfoot
as the wind changes.

 

 

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Wild Trumpasaurus, Poetry by Matthew Scott Harris

 Genre: Life

Trumpasaurus extinction iz a cockamamie rumor gone wild
thee above mentioned puckish, quasi-roguish, scarily threatening
utterly vainglorious wicked yikyak decreed donnybrook con
Vince singly fostered and feigned (with assistance from the grim reaper)
his deathly hallowed demise, though all the while in reality
donning himself with requisite accoutrements (such as coiffed,
colored, and cosseted image) as most terrible lizard and/or doubling
to play in a contra band one foo fighting doobie brother, sic:
wild arse beastie boy known to roam terrestrial firmament,
whose ego throve on moost pernicious incubated fabrications,
* * * * * * * * * *
Confabulations, and adulterations (hijacking thru nay saying
scientific rubric) especially factual evidence (sh…Keep
the following on the QT) monstrosity runs amuck disguised
as the beefy size oscar wilde sabotaging viz hiz eccentricity,
the basic fabric, and lyric swan song with refrain of i.e.
e pluribus Unum, that rallied generations of folks wild
with fortitude thus, this huzzah bin feels imperative mission
to broadcast this missive to exclaim vis a vis, this handy dandy
blues clues fierce some infant terrible will upend long entrenched
democratic theory, (loosed from forefathers – centuries ago
* * * * * * * * * *
As a wild and crazy idea fixx) will bid a permanent catastrophic
bed dee bye boo to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness
sans faux tricked putative death complete with the funereal
trappings rigged to eliciting truth to power, sans foursquare
contrived extinction reeks foul, and pea brained reptilian
deigns to o’er shadow (donned incognito as a dapper
democratic dilettante) scrapping the declaration of independence
and constitution with wild eyed excitement, he invites
Vladimir Putin to join ranks so together these free ranging pals
can hinder peace on earth, foment wild pandemonium, and define
* * * * * * * * * *
A greater giving a more harrowing definition as persona
non grata amidst the legendary legions that comprise panoply
of cut throat rogues night gallery thee unnamable overlooked
jabberwocky inscrutable hoax genii us wrought wish (with a
whoosh) to manifest as crude dude exude ding sinister
specie savors supremacy and floods the market with
gewgaws of his likeness (gamut of gnarly guised gizmos,
and game pieces life size or miniature model available
at sundry department stores wherever schlocky plastic
model toys sold)popular trapping of childhood imagination –
* * * * * * * * * *
imbued via vainglorious ventriloquist inciting fiendish cry
such kiddy paraphernalia forever a top selling plaything
snapped off shelves leaving allocated space bone dry
since time immemorial dinosaur makeshift gewgaws
did cap cha ominous jaws, and populated fertile land
of cave dwellers whereat swaddled kinder babes bellowed
believable farcically feigned ferocious fabrications
foraging bankrupt foretold foreclosure to espy real McCoy
perhaps assembled from mud, rocks and sticks
voicing noisome predators snatching innocent prey –
* * * * * * * * * *
Ripping to tatters and shreds unlucky victim rarely escaping
in fizz hicks of time – witnessed first hand proof positive
how me came that close (pinch thumb with index finger)
telly tubby simian snack aye haint fool’n witch cha,
nar doth this medieval troubadour –spin a yarn
approximating verity of nasty Hobbesian brute
trumpeting fiercely bruited his bombastic buzz hard
carrion feed small fry to Golgotha donning topface,
could dice in a flickr emulate, and twitter
ring one excited live hotmail riding Pegasus,
* * * * * * * * * *
While those in his Isis Petsmart warpath
on outlook to avoid get linkedin, per imp (of
the pervert) pale’n maws simultaneously masticating
and able to shutterfly hither and yon, to and fro rousing
seditious rogues gallery of reprobate ruthless minions –
ruminants to become apprenticed fired up en mass thru
the art of the deal vis a vis venal pet peeves (pygmy male hominids),
who revered his racially stirred debacle while straddling
as a humungous towering Taj ma hill, he pill or reed
like lex lucifer usurpation, whence auld dish diehard
* * * * * * * * * *
Don nah sore dominated as demented species, thus,
he didst not perish from this earth boot yielded wild
hest emperor – elected by the peephole,
four the pea pull, of the peep pill.
 

 

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Futurist I am, Poetry by Stephen Karnaghan

 Genre: philosophical

 And the smell of the final cadence lingers … purging me of the strength to run away … and no one
can remedy … no one can feel … the pains that just won’t go away … memories invade … of the scorn
… the hate … the arrogance of those in the crowd … mocking me … hating me … for I didn’t care …
didn’t care to be … just one who dreams and dies … to dream and die with beer and gut … to dream
and die with gossip and stuff … thrusting me forward alone in the dark … always presuming that
solitude mark … which gave me … thrust me to my purpose my life … beckoning wisdom … and
furthering hope …
Music … music … the music – the dance – the love … listen to the words my friend listen to the words
… bring forth the wisdom and let us set aside … set aside the stuff, the pride, the consumerist bile …
listen to the words that sing about hope … of a land in repair … with lingering beauty and love … the
musician bringing the soul to the fore … be strong and look for a life … the future to be found …
beckoning wisdom … someone must start …
Wisdom … truth in action … the perceived world can be … anything that we all desire … living in hell
as most of us are … the pain will stay with us all … but the soul to the fore … to trumpet change …
giving to the mind all the needs … fractured societies as the beat drives us on … to lingering beauty
and love … flora and fauna … repaired and set for life … the future is what I see …

 

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Dear You, Poetry by Chirayu

 Genre: Society

This poetry relate you by my world of Writing.!
Hello,
This is me a poetry teller
Rhyming down the line
Shimmering light of love
Pouching out my heart
in flame of different words..
Gifting you a secret beauty
Falling down on knees
folding hand behinds
Rearing one hand Front with a
Beautiful Rose to say!..
Will you be my valentine!…

the rays of beauty shines on face
where hides the blushing rose,
Pride of fragrant poetry
Prepared in sane of love;
Garland meet for beauty’s brows,
Hill and dale adorning?
Gentle maid the summer’s fled
And the hopeless Rose bright forever!!..
Till the next Valentine day!!…
– Chirayu

 

 

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I AM, Poetry by T. Altman

 Genre: Feminist

I Am
I am the mouthy bitch
Who barks and bites
Rejecting your conformity
Refusing to bind and blind
Rallying against miso-dogma

I am the stirring corruptor
Who scratches and claws
Pushing out ruminating tendrils
Pure and enduring confabulation
Pulling in original virtue

I am the hostile oppressor
Who marks and jabs
Antagonistic slights incurred
Aggressively bunting venom
Amazingly enduring in self-form

T. Altman 2017

 

 

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