Poetry offerings from Moongate
Arpil 15, 1999 Vol. V, Issue #7

VE VURK 'TIL VE DROP

can we civilize the salamander
make him
sit in a cubicle
for eight hours
exactly
The animals don't stand for any of that crap
my dog knows what is important
it is important to sniff at that bush
I
on the other hand
have trouble with
the importance of things
and other people
like me who
don't allow themselves time to sniff
the air for
anything really
important
really
other people like me
don't have time for that bush
unless
it is landscaped into our orderly little lives like
the trees in our yard which are
planted just so
and
made to look just so
like
that
was
important
but
my dog knows what is important
and I,
we
unfortunately
have
forgotten

- David Jackson

---

 
watch it on tv,
but turn the channel.
read it in the paper,
but turn the page.
the sports, the comics,
I don't want to know
about the death,
the fear,
and the children.
hear it on the radio,
but turn it over,
more milk in my coffee please,
and a biscuit.
drown out the sound of crying
with a laugh,
with a joke,
but there's too many echoes.
throw a dime to the street corner bum,
your solace for the day, your good deed done.
you say 'did you see
the horror on tv, it's
so terribly sad' and feel better.
Your guilt for the day,
brushed away because
you care.
right?
There must be a reason, God's master plan.
As long as the blood is not on our hands
or our faces.
No one seems to realize that
God left us the blueprints.
Thou shalt not eat fattening foods?
I'm sure that was one.
ten bits of rock, a book and his son,
was not enough.
or maybe
it was,
and no-one cares.

 -Smithy

---

"Note the many lectures given on how
to forgive yourself for anything?"

o life o product of love
beached like whales' suicides
sounding alarm
what contrast from mass "comet" suicides
proclaiming "they" the ultimate in evolution.
can we save us from ourselves?
will we ever get bored with all toys of destruction?
will desire for survival overcome
banal desires of acquisition?
Mother Theresas & John Lennons
can't do all the work.
within the human heart is an ocean throbbing
drumming still the ancient call to love.
pain is communal no matter the denial.
gossip is an act of war.
hate is the act of love denied.
the meek will again inherit this Earth
when the pompous succeed
in throwing Her off balance
enough. She tilts her axis
o just enough to cleanse
gawdawful pollutants.

(for the non-believers, go visit Matamoros).

- Summer Music

---

 
Their faces emerge
from mountain mist and fog
         old and wrinkled faces
              young mothers' faces
                          babies' faces
faces of life and death
some with shortness of breath
all wearing trauma
in eyes and mouth
some as though crossing deserts
triumphing over drought
claiming men in masks
asking for money
         or taking blood
those resisting
         adding to the flood
                    of lost
             fathers
                  husbands
                          & sons
other soldiers
         threatening death
                  the women insist
                          can't resist
 (and still they come
          through mountain mist)
a travesty become tragedy
madmen at work
         at ethnic cleansing
                  all ethics vanished
at the point of a gun
                               or dirk...