Holiday II

Detonations echo

across the city.

Security guards

are extra vigilant.

But the people are calm,

not worried about terror

as they briefly forget

ongoing concerns

in the annual display

on Independence day,

the fireworks show.

Digital Control

I sit at my desk,

another worker

in the Information Age,

and stare at my inbox

that conspires to prevent me

from returning to my screen,

by overwhelming me with paperwork.

Diminishing Garments

The shorts get shorter,

            tighter.

The tops get smaller,

            snugger,

revealing more female flesh,

thighs, breasts, bellies,

then most girlie magazines

yet it doesn’t seem to provoke

     public assault

in tolerant America,

and only Muslims are outraged

     by the wanton display

     of women’s bodies.

Comparative Assessment

We look at the rich

      envious

of what they possess,

      all they enjoy

and we easily forget

while they’re on their super yachts,

we have a comfortable apartment,

our children go to good schools,

we have enough to eat,

the occasional treat

a two week vacation

   somewhere nice.

Yet across most of the world

            poverty rules,

hunger, diseases, war,

ravages the people,

many of whom are happy

making do with little,

   but appreciating

whatever they have,

until disaster strikes

and there are few resources,

            or none

to ease infliction

and the daily suffering

restricts the search

   for daily bread.

Hunger, disease, violence,

      the separation

between joy and sorrow

accepted by millions,

neglected by millions,

so many self-absorbed

acquiring comforts,

      indifferent,

      too busy,

      too removed

from means of sharing

      abundance

with the needy world,

dreaming of the lottery,

      not realizing

      after taxes

there’s barely enough

      to buy a Warhol.

So we trudge the worn path

      that our forbears trod,

many of us living better

      than anyone before,

unfortunately

            never enough

to satisfy our primal greed.

Weather Vane

Winter is almost over,

     lashing out

with storm, snow, sleet,

reluctant to depart

and let us forget

that harsh climes

are here to stay.

From now on

brief summer

will hasten away,

     ushering in

     cold winds

to chill our bones.

Gary Beck

but a sullen moon

 

it's the final embrace

of a future pissed away

 

the factories are all

closed and all you have

left is a few scars and

a bad back

 

snow in the air

 

yet another christmas

you can't afford

 

you try your best to

be thankful for what

you do have

 

but all these beautiful

faces on the television

remind you that failure

tastes like shit

 

you haven't seen the

sun in three days

 

if you think the midwest

can be depressing to

begin with, try it in

the darkness

 

a lonely road

 

no lights but a

sullen moon

 

murder in the air

 

boredom allows for

the monsters to have

fun

--------------------------------------------------

but you look in her eyes

 

the river is so high

you could just walk

right in and let the

current take you

wherever

 

it's fucking

tempting

these days

 

but you look

in her eyes and

immediately hear

an old otis redding

song

 

and the way she

presses her lips

against your

cheek

 

you feel like

she's the one

 

of course, so was

the last one

 

and the one before

that

 

bad luck eventually

ends

 

the sun finds a way

through the clouds

 

and everyone knows

 

everything comes

in threes

-----------------------------------------------------------

on a sunday morning

 

it's that soft

smile

 

the way her

eyes reflect

the light

coming from

the windows

 

the way you

imagine she

would look

fucking you

on a sunday

morning

 

you would

think you

would know

by now the

quiet ones

don't get shit

in this world

 

you have to

beat your

chest and

let your

barbaric

yawp

free

 

please, for

the sake of

us all

------------------------------------------------------

lick my way to freedom

 

i usually fall asleep

to the thought of a

nice round black ass

smothering my face

as i lick my way to

freedom

 

if i wake up gasping

for air

 

i check the bed for

bodily fluids

 

and hopefully there

is nothing other than

fond memories on

my tongue

----------------------------------------------------------

from any depth of hell

 

she had a smile

that could lift

my soul from

any depth of

hell

 

part of me

understood

that smile

was never

meant for

me

 

i never

minded the

consequences

of being a thief

 

a poor soul takes

what he can get

------------------------------------------------------------------

thirty feet in front of me

 

sitting in a chair

in the waiting

room

 

about thirty feet

in front of me is

a nearly perfect

ass on a treadmill

 

my imagination

smiles

 

and suddenly

the sun starts

to shine

---------------------------------------------------------------------

J.J. Campbell

Bruno Bettleheim

You work a lifetime on one idea

and they take it from you,

strike a match page by page,

forcing you to transform. 

These people still do not know

the strength of rape,

how you quest for learning,

how music flows through cell blocks,

how even children see a future. 

Somehow the loss of a manuscript

changed you into something

else, and you survived,

came across the ocean,

created a better vision

explaining to all of us

how we think, how we know.

Michael H. Brownstein

Word Bubbles

Travel with me a moment
into a place where our thoughts
become action.  Yes, this sounds like
the introduction to a 60s science fiction
series.  Pardon me.

There are some ideas I wish to
keep secret.  They are my tangle of vines,
grounding me in reality.  Reminding me
that I don’t have to throat punch someone.
All I have to do is smile, listen, nod.
Adjust, move on.

But I love comic books, how
dialogue happens.  The lines are dotted
when the characters whisper, or
the words begin to fade.

I can see in a cloud above
someone’s head, their inner truth.
This might come in handy, but is there
 a way to turn it off?  Ever?
 
Take Two

And this is why I love
film.  No one stutters
unless they mean to.  They
represent themselves in the best
take of all.

I am a silent performer.  When
I drive down the road, I belt out music
like a professional.  I wish I
hadn’t told you that.

In my mind, there’s an auditorium.
Figures from my past sit and listen.
Wow, are they impressed.  In my
hypothetical universe, I’ve always got
the perfect line.

How often do I get to enact
it?  Almost never.  Rarely.  Sometimes.

Maybe it’s the audition
that’s worthwhile.  Or maybe one too many
long walks in the woods, meditating
on the structure of stories I would one
day forget.
 
In the World

I’m tired of the high-minded voices
I know talking about not being of
the world.

Like, what does that really
mean?  I’m the substance of this known universe.
I have dirt under my nails.  I eat from the ground.

Get used to it.

It’s not that I disagree with their stance
on life, the universe, and a number of ideas.
I’m all for grand philosophizing.
I’m just rooted in this place.  I know where I come
from.  It’s not so bad.

The earth of the mountains and the concrete
of the urban jungles are full of truth.
Or something like it.

Let it ring like the chiming of the car
behind me that wants me to move on.

I don’t want to move on.  Let me take
in this roadside attraction.  Stop for some
chicken that is so cooked it will kill me.

Now, that’s the world.

I Want to Be in a Comic Book

From the flashing pages of my youth,
I have wanted to be in a comic book.

I designed my suit, considered my powers
and weapons.  I imagined a damsel in distress.
Even thought of my perfect lair.

On my swing set, I would consider this
universe of my making.

I set about on notebook pages to construct
a story with myself as the heroic center –
but age and time wore these dreams down.

I began to see myself as a character whose
bright intentions were mingled with dark ink.

No one needs to be the hero all the time,
or so I reasoned.

Nevertheless, even today, I sometimes yearn
to see myself as a protagonist in my own story,
written or visual.

JD DeHart