Big Difference

Behind every great man 

is a woman 

making him who he is.

Behind every great woman 

is a man

watching her walk.

Donal Mahoney

Gender Inequality

The uncommon

is common

in America today.

Not that there’s anything 

wrong with that, Seinfeld 

might have said to George

had they seen the latest 

Glamour Magazine 

naming Caitlyn Jenner

Woman of the Year.

The public seems to agree.

No placards hit the air.

but Caitlyn has to stand 

and spray what other 

women sit to tinkle.

Donal Mahoney

Two in the Soup

We’re twins.

We’ve been together

from the start.

You’re the doctor.

You know that.

She didn’t sound happy

when you told her

there were two. 

We’re worried

she doesn’t want us.

See you next week

when she comes back 

with her decision.

We’ll float till then.

Nothing else to do.

Donal Mahoney

Ms. Editor Savaged by Mr. Author

It is a different society now. 

Less respect for people at either end 

and folks in the middle as well.

People no longer are treated like linen.

Too often like Kleenex used and tossed.

Since it’s a man who’s sending those emails,

don't bother taking any offense.

We men are often not too nice to women 

standing up although we can be sweet 

as honey when wanting them supine. 

You have a fine magazine but need  

thicker armor over your sensibilities. 

In my world, you’re young and while

I’d never applaud the benefits of age, 

it has at least one that’s valuable.

When you’re near the top of the hill 

it's easier to laugh at the louts below

whizzing darts past your keister.

Donal Mahoney

Monitor Lizard, Chomping

Willard goes to the well 

for a drink of water

on a furnace hot day

but there’s no water

only a beggar sitting 

yogi-style at the bottom

with a tin cup in one hand, 

a bouquet of pencils 

in the other, but alas

no one is buying.

He yells up to Willard:

“Go get a ladder.

I have to come up 

before the election

so I can register.”

A tycoon put him in the well

after a primary rally where

the beggar had shouted,

“Trickle-down economics

is never the answer.”

The crowd cheered  

when the beggar added,

"Trickle down is nothing more 

than the droppings of a 

monitor lizard, chomping.”

Donal Mahoney

Morning Coffee Can Be So Important

A tragedy happened to Willie

and Millie after years of marriage.

All their kids were doing well 

and had nice families of their own

but tragedy struck one dawn before 

Willie had had his morning coffee.

Millie was on her third cup and Willie 

said Millie looked at him the wrong way

and Willie asked, “What’s that look

all about, Millie, what did I do now?"

Millie had no idea what Willie

was talking about since she 

hadn’t looked at him in any way

different than she usually did.

Maybe she was stifling a sneeze.

It didn’t help when Millie advised 

Willie to drink plenty of coffee

and they would talk it over then. 

Willie said he had had enough

and he was leaving forever. 

He packed his old satchel

and moved to a geriatric hotel 

and sent Millie a letter telling her

to file for divorce or he would file

to make certain she would never 

look at him the same way again. 

He said he had done nothing 

to warrant so viperous a look  

and their marriage was kaput.

Millie wouldn't file for divorce

but Willie filed and they split. 

Now Millie lives in the big house

and Willie in the old hotel where 

he’s delighted to know that Millie 

will never get another chance to

sink her fangs like a viper again. 

Donal Mahoney 

Patchy

hair has

grown in

strange places,

strange new

ways, and he's

not a werewolf,

because that's

a made-up story,

but a real

monster just

the same

Reserve

I held

inside me all

those emotions,

bottled,

until they came

spilling, then

flushed and rushed

for a mop

to clean up

my own mess

Extraction

I'm the rotten

tooth in the back

of your mouth

that you know

that you know has

a cavity, a little

aching pain, chipped

spot that has grown

over time, and you're

thinking

damn I need to pull

that out

Hermes

call me Hermes,

put a little cloth

on my sensitive

places, let me 

run for you,

but just know

I'll drop all your

stuff, mix your

messages, and

do it on purpose

 

Robert League

Order

There has to be

an order, she tells

me in the pastel

room of her death,

the heat filling up

our small place,

There has to be

a purpose, she 

mutters on her

breath and I count

them, try to hold

on to them, bottle

them, as they 

seep out one by

one by one.

Palace

I have created

a palace in my

mind to go back

to, where life

was simple, a rainy

autumn day

on which I had no

worries for all this,

where no one

spoke ill of me,

spread rumors,

tried to tie me

to the rules,

where I could

play and run like

a child

because I was

a child.

Splinter

I found a shard

of you and realized

it had slipped

out, so I jammed

it back in, twisted it

to feel you again,

then looked at

your picture while

I felt this pain.

Robert League

Far Away Sounds

From the heavens
Teardrops fall
One at a time
Many straight lines
Single file
Across piano keys
Light year’s melody
Echoing
From the past
Before there was time


Publish Her

Her form
In press hinted
Elegantly printed


I See Your Vein (Part One)

I see your vein marked and stabbed
A sword of pain you are trapped
In the castle I see the night
A darken shadow a stream of light
I see your vein and feel the blue
The lion statues they seem to move
Out by the gate near the arch
I see your silhouette in the marsh
You’re alone with the moon
I see the holes within a room
I see the vein the one that bleeds
Break the drawbridge out by the trees
The stone carvings they seem to talk
I see the armies when you walk
I see your vein and feel the blue


The Break

The sun handled broom
Sweep away the gray
Clouds with rays
Blue depth skies
Shooting the horizon
With trees showered
The wind satisfied
Swallowed by a hand


The Falsehood Of Distance

The spots of stars
The black of night
Looking so far away
A colorful world
Seems black and white


Current…ly

The endless ocean in the heart, it waved so calm
Icebergs near the edges, and frozen at the poles
Although deep down inside, hidden below the crust
It burns more intense there, then amber red-hot coals

The lake in the heart it shined, many times before
Feeling like a stranger, in the depths of the soul
Most of the time, staying near next to the surface
The light it felt so warm, like it would mend the holes

The river in the heart, it flowed across rapids
Upstream against the current, love is hard to hold
The past is lost, not altogether forgotten
Now to journey downstream, the shores are lined with gold

Denny E. Marshall 

How They Do It in Syria Today

First, we place the neck on the block

and put the basket underneath

the head and then make sure the blade 

is sharp enough before we ask the person 

one more time just to be polite:

Are you sure you’re not one of us?

And if the answer’s no, we

pick up our bullhorn and announce

loud enough for the others 

waiting in their orange to hear:

"Going once, going twice."

Then we pull the rope and

the blade drops and that one’s done.

Then we uncage the next one and tell him 

to put the head on a pole and bag the rest

before we position him on the same block 

and politely ask him the same question:

Are you sure you’re not one of us?

Donal Mahoney

Multi-Tasking Drug

 

In California the governor 

has signed a law permitting

doctors to use a drug

ending the life of the 

terminally ill so they can 

die and not suffer.

In Oklahoma the governor

has halted all executions 

until a drug can be found 

that will kill the condemned

without causing them pain.

Some think a phone call to

the governor of California

from the governor of Oklahoma   

asking for the name of  

the drug that ends life for

the terminally ill is in order.

Others prefer lynching.

Donal Mahoney

Stranger Comes to Town

Beautiful fall day

in a potter’s field 

outside a small town.

A funeral is underway

but that doesn’t stop 

the leaves russet and gold 

a few still green 

falling among the stones

without a name.

The minister reads a verse 

over the grave of a man 

found by deer hunters.

No idea who he is or

where he came from,

a body dumped.

Four people from 

the clapboard church

with the wayward steeple

over the hill gather 'round 

heads bowed, hands clasped.

An old worker with a shovel

stands like a soldier 

near the shed and

waits for everyone to leave

so he can finish up.

It’s almost lunch time.

One by one cars pull away

and now it’s just us, the dirt 

and a gold leaf falling on me.

Donal Mahoney

A Certain Look

Some things you can’t undo.

A remark, perhaps, you can retract

or try to with an explanation. 

But a certain look can

burn forever in the mind

of its observer, a missile you

never knew you launched.

Maya Angelou was right.

Some folks can’t recall

years later what you said

but they remember instantly

how you made them feel.

Donal Mahoney

Remainder Bin

We write the stories 

of our lives between 

the bookends 

of birth and death

They stay on the shelf 

as long as we live

and then go in 

the remainder bin 

after we die.

No one buys them

and the paper’s recycled 

to print the stories 

of millions of people

yet to be born 

except for the stories 

that are never told.

They are the stories

Planned Parenthood sells.

Donal Mahoney

Martha and Mel Wait for the Elevator

I died from a rattlesnake bite

and found myself in line with

other zombies in front of a bank 

of elevators, the doors opening 

and closing as if by metronome.

Every time a door opened a voice

called the names of 12 zombies

who boarded the elevator single file.

As the doors closed, Led Zeppelin 

or Bing Crosby played in the background

depending on whether the elevator went 

up or down according to the light 

winking above the door. 

The rest of us waited our turn

as more zombies arrived 

and lined up behind us.

I saw no one I knew except 

a couple who looked like 

Martha Stewart and Mel Brooks 

discussing the future.

Mel was on stilts so he looked 

Martha straight in the eye.

When the rattlesnake bit me,

Martha and Mel were alive on Earth

so I had no idea why they were there 

with us zombies but nevertheless 

I listened as Martha told Mel

she didn’t care which way 

the elevator went as long as 

she found prime rib and a glass 

of Dom Pérignon waiting

when she arrived.

Mel didn’t care either, he said,

as long as he found a steamed

Nathan’s Hot Dog with two squirts 

of mustard, lots of relish, 

raw onion and sport peppers 

hotter than hell and a 

tankard of seltzer iced.

Seltzer is better, he said,

than Dom Pérignon.

Ask any sommelier.

Another elevator arrived and Martha 

and Mel, arm and arm, boarded.

This time I didn’t hear Led Zeppelin 

or Bing Crosby in the background. 

I saw Martha stare Mel in the eye,

wag her finger and tell him to try

prime rib because too much 

cholesterol lurks in hot dogs.

Enough to kill you, she said.

Donal Mahoney

Landscape

I flew from New York

to Florida

in the 1950’s

and most of the country

was green.

I flew from New York

to Florida

in 2014

and most of the country

was concrete.

Soft Moment

In the city of chance

the cry of a child

is unheard

in the roar of traffic,

the shrill of sirens,

the grate of angry voices,

until kindness demands a lull

in the constant commotion

and a gentler sound

pauses unhappiness.

Differences

The women of the West

walk the streets

in Europe, America,

proud of their bodies,

walk the streets

with bare thighs,

midriffs, shoulders,

display themselves

for all who look,

exercising freedom,

social equality,

semi-nudity.

The men of the East

disguise temptation

by covering their women

in concealing garments,

the slightest hint

of forbidden flesh

a religious affront,

a punishable offense

that firmly asserts

male superiority.

When East meets West

there is no accord

for they cover their women,

while we let ours go bare.

Since we do not desire

their hidden treasures

and they lust

for our abundance,

there is no way

to share and share alike.

Prerequisite

Purpose was once

condition normal

in paleolithic times

for hunter/gatherers.

Idlers didn’t sit around

the comfortable cave

getting high,

babbling about art,

questioning religion,

or they’d starve.

As evolution

brought prosperity

we invented leisure,

entertainment,

artificial diversions

to consume time

that was no longer needed

for daily work.

Gary Beck

Extraction

Teeth can be terrible things; ungrateful, painful things.

We shelter and house them, clean and polish them,

Doctor them through X-rays, poking, and prodding.

We fill and forgive them so often we lose count and

Then we whisper soothing words around them,

Treat them to our best moments, food and drink

Enough to chew and bathe in -- hot, cold, tender to

Tough, we help them along, bite-size, careful sips,

We cut and pour with only them in mind; we click

And chatter them in the cold, grind and growl them

To fit our mood, and so often we bite off more than

They can chew, literally and figuratively, gnaw on that

Why don’t we, why don’t they. It should be so simple,

A lifetime relationship, give and take, a peaceful co-

Existence, but things breakdown, treaties are broken,

And then one day I find myself in a chair, tilted back

Almost relaxing, while that pesky upper molar, left side

Is yanked out, grabbed, pulled on, then there’s a terrible

Cracking noise, it breaks into pieces, can’t get along even

Now in its last moments, refuses my last request of it,

But force, persistence, a couple of stitches, a bit gauze,

A little blood and a few painkillers send it on its way;

Teeth are terrible things, ungrateful, painful things.

How Reality Really Works

We conspire with some,

Placate others,

Pull a few fast ones

To get by.

 

We browse and select,

Undermine sometimes,

Triumph if we must.

 

We find out, sort out,

freak out, and finagle.

 

We shred documents,

Buckle up, batten down,

 

We keep safely neutral

On most things.

 

We pace ourselves,

Disgrace ourselves,

 

Then we distance ourselves

From any results.

 

We mess around, clown,

Muck up, fuck up,

cheer up, and cry.

 

We ask too many questions

Then distrust the answers.

 

We make time and room.

We charm, and we harm.

 

We know better -- but still,

But still we will without

Shame  act just the same.

 

 Parking Garage

 

They stack us now

Row and ramp

Seven levels high

 

They sort us, draw

Lines, create groups

In our midst

 

Reserve spaces for

Handicaps and

Compacts

 

The employee of

The month gets

One, of course

 

Then service vehicles,

Vans and bikes

And pickups aplenty

 

Easy solutions and

Easy access, every-

One in their place

 

Easy categories for

The passive and

The privileged

 

They stack us now

Seven levels high

Reaching into the sky

 

Reaching for heaven

Through clouds of

Concrete we contrive

 

We battle with the gods

Of energy and efficiency,

Our gods of time and space.

 

J.K. Durick

Midnight Anthem for a Chicago Alley

The lack of visitors is uterine

and that is why you porcupine

in this dark corner. Here

 

who can see the cobra

slither from your lips, spray

the phrases of your mind,

 

slip back to its moist nest.

Here, who can hear the jeer

of cheetah eyes. “Come,”

 

they cry, “pour on the light.

Your heart I’ll lacerate

with razor fright.” 

 

Donal Mahoney

Liechtenstein Noticed

Take heed, Moscow.

Keep an eye on your sky

and while you are waiting,

give back Crimea and

pull out of the Ukraine.

Last night in Chicago

the Cubs beat the Cardinals

to move on in the playoffs.

Liechtenstein noticed.

It is sending its planes.

Donal Mahoney

Man at the Bus Stop on Halloween

 

The others, of course, 

are more rabid than he

but less apt to show it. 

Whenever he strikes, 

he never romps off. 

He stands with the wrist 

that he's snatched

from the lady 

tight in his teeth

as he waits with a smile 

for the wagon.

He's one of the few 

wrist-snatchers still 

on the streets of Chicago,

and he makes his rounds 

in old tennies.

His technique is simple:

He dives for the purse hand, 

gives it a whack, and severs 

the wrist without slobber,   

then stands like a Vatican Guard

with the wrist in his teeth 

until he is certain 

he has no pursuers. 

At night in his dreams he sees 

the women whose wrists 

he has held in his teeth. 

They stand at the bus stop 

like Statues of Liberty,

shrieking and waving 

their stumps like flares. 

He prays their screams 

will bring to a frieze 

the patrol cars glowing

in the middle of the street. 

 

Donal Mahoney

Character Flaw

Millie wants Willie to make up,

go back to the way they were,

be lovey-dovey, hunky-dory.

Willie wishes he could 

but that’s not the way he is.

He has a character flaw,

permanent as a birthmark

his mother told him 

when he was only six.

Some folks can forgive 

and then forget but that’s 

not you Willie, she said.

When he heard about 

the crucifixions in Syria,

he said that's genocide, 

plain and simple. 

Willie’s can't forget 

a wrong, big or small.

It’s hard to forgive, he says,

never mind forget ISIS.

You’re not ISIS, Willie,

his Millie reassures him.

You just have a conscience.

No nails, no hammer.

Donal Mahoney

Pants on Fire

Rhoda, I can’t say why Amanda 

was picked and not Tiffany  

for anchor of our Nightly News.

I interviewed both 

because Mr. Smith wanted 

a woman’s opinion.

I honestly don’t know.

I made a recommendation

and sent it to Mr. Jones

who sent it to Mr. Smith

who made the final decision.

I found little difference 

between the two.

A day later Mr. Smith sent Mr. Jones

a formal email with a copy to me

saying Amanda would be the anchor 

and Tiffany would return 

to morning news.

I’m glad it was not my decision.

I could have picked either.

Earlier in our careers, Rhoda,

you and I both did on-air TV and radio. 

Now you write a media column

and I direct this program.

As women, we know

the demands of television 

differ from those 

of radio and print.

But I can assure you, 

one woman to another, 

despite what readers and viewers 

may think, Amanda’s cup size 

was never a factor.

Mr. Smith says if you put that 

in your column, you better 

believe we’ll sue.

Donal Mahoney