POETRY MOVIE: Big Lonely Doug, by Ekaterina Karassev

Voice Over by Steve Rizzo

Visual Design & Editor: Kimberly Villarruel

Produced by Matthew Toffolo


I walked down the path and touched Big Lonely Doug.
He poked me in my chest and whispered in my ear,
“Do you know why I am left here?
Do you know why people keep approaching,
Taking off their shoes, hugging me and crying?
Do they know what is coming?
Or maybe they know how hard to wake up
And to see a clearcut?

Or maybe they are aware that when we are killed
We release tons of carbon dioxide?
Or how much it hurts
Witnessing your friends fall
Or to see the broken limbs of your kids?
Maybe they know how it feels when you are used to haul your family out.
Or how much I wanted to be with my siblings on that truck?”

I had no answers for him, I just kept my hand on his trunk.

“Maybe they hear the birds’ cries of despair
About missing nests and squished eggs?
Maybe, after a day of an awful noise and cracking sound,
They know the smell of horror:
Who is coming down tomorrow?!
Maybe they know how eagles scream during damage surveying?
Maybe they are aware what bears feel when they come out of still standing forest?
Maybe they hear a complete silence on a battlefield,
Where there are no movements of leaves, no sobs and no birds’ chirps?
And, to cover the wound, nature makes a heavy fog to roll in.”

I finally opened my mouth,
“Doug, you are a survivor, strong and the oldest!
Douglas Fir, you are the second largest!
You are a storyteller and an oxygen generator,
A guardian of a new growth and remaining forest!”

I heard Doug’s heavy moan.
“It appears to me you don’t know.
Behind your back is Eden Grove,
Which is getting ready to be logged.
I don’t have a beating heart,
But, I can feel the heavy step
Of those who is marking the road for blasting,
Knowing exactly what is happening after.
In each of them I see a tiny light,
That is ready to burst open and shine really bright.
Same light I have seen in Dennis Cronin,
Who tied up on me a green ribbon.
I have a hope for them and for humanity as a whole.
I know one day you all will embrace a life of pure love,
Where nature and you will live in perfect harmony!”

I shed a tear, stepped away and headed to Eden Grove.


ASYLE, by Zoran Mimica

Asyle – and this is not a poem – this is a demand

I want to see the world or even a village, a town, a province if not a state
where there are no drugs, no cigarretes, no cigarette buts, no smoke
and no smoking and no abuse of drugs and alcohol and no violence……

Please let me know where is any available? Can I, maybe, establish it or I have to wait for the Kingdom of God to enter into it?

Is there question or answer? Angels help me!
I accept illnesses and old age and dying but not the above items? Why we cannot live and die without pain and longing, without desperation and sorrow?

POETRY MOVIE: A Scene of Brutal Glory, by Howard W. Robertson

Poetry Football……

Narration by Steve Rizzo

Visual Design & Edited by Kimberly Villarruel

Produced by Matthew Toffolo


After football practice, Dave Malloy, assistant
coach, was sitting in the office of the coach, Jim
Shelby / I was there as well; I don’t remember why
/ without the slightest warning, zany Dave erupted,
bellowed, slammed the tabletop with both his hefty
hands, ejaculating loudly these impassioned words,
“I want to fuck!” / Malloy repeated this, and Shelby
shushed him, since a teenage boy was present, me /
soon after that, Malloy became the coach at New
Geneva High, our bitter rival, we of Fairfield High /
the summer just before my senior season, 1964, I
had an easy job delivering bouquets, arrangements,
wreaths, and other floral merchandise from Baxter’s
Blossoms, located in Fairfield but providing flowers
for all greater New Geneva / my delivery van pulled
up at New Geneva High one afternoon, and I began
unloading many floral products / suddenly Malloy
was there, just grinning at me crazily, eyes merrily
agleam / we talked a bit of this and that, not even
mentioning we’d meet next autumn on opposing
sides of gridiron combat / early in the New Geneva
game that fall, we punted on fourth down / I was the
long-snapper and could release downfield before the
other guys who had to block first / when the punt
returner caught the kick, I was already nearing him
at top speed / suddenly I caught some stream of
energy (let’s call it Ki) and flowed right through the
running back, depositing his body in a broken heap
at Coach Malloy’s large feet while I just trotted off
unscathed and nonchalant / my soft eyes sensed his
crazy stare and joyous grin directed at me all the
way across the field to what was now the line of
scrimmage / next day in the local paper he was
quoted, “Well, I knew when Douglas tore apart my
halfback early on that we were in for one hell of a
game!” / that was the scene of brutal glory, that
god-given moment, gleaming possibly forever /
Pindar said, “What’s man? A shadow’s dream.
God-given gleaming comes, and life is bright.


Narrated by Val Cole

Editor and Visual Design by Kimberly Villarruel

Produced by Matthew Toffolo

After centuries of living with nothing, but my love to you, friends,
I found myself surrounded by the luxury of feelings and I am safe
now, I am alive, I am breathing again, but where were you, my friends,
when I was broken? I am calm now, but where were you my friends
when the emptiness encircled me and I was afraid? Where are the friends
when I need them most? I was yearning for knowledge, but from this
day on, I don’t want to know a thing except for, will I be able or not
to love you again, friends. Maybe everything and maybe nothing that I
have given or maybe not given away will ever be really as mine, as my
own breath? Hello friends, I found you after centuries of living with nothing
but my expectations — our life is what our expectations are. I thank you all.

David Dephy
January 2, 2020

Poetry Movie: CHILD BRAIN SURGEON by Tracy Déchaux


Poetry by Tracy Déchaux

Produced by Matthew Toffolo

Editor & Visual Design by Kimberly Villaruel

Read Poem:

It’s a daily occurrence
Attach the electrodes for torment
When really everything will be just fine
I’m just playing around with your mind

You lie there so trusting
When its me that has you cussing
If you wake up with a headache
Don’t worry, it’s just your sanity that I take

When I ask you to relax as I linger
And put on my surgical gloves with floppy fingers
Don’t be nervous and hyper ventilate
I’ll be checking your eyes if they dilate

After the surgery get plenty of rest
It’s true but its for the best
My home is hell in a dim lit room
It could be worse, you could be stuck in a tomb

Don’t forget, you will want to see me first
As I am so careful with my thirst
But as time moves on that knowledge is forgotten
I am Hell’s Child Brain Surgeon


Poetry Movie: PART CONVERSATION WITH HOMLO by Bhekuzulu Khumalo

Poetry by Bhekuzulu Khumalo

Narration by Matt Barnes

Visual Design by Kimberly Villaruel

Produced by Matthew Toffolo