BOY DOWN THE WELL. A Poem by John Grey.

They say there was a boy who fell into the well years ago

and his body is still down there.

I was told to stay away,

as if his ghost would coax me into his dark bottomless world.

People even gave him a name – Hector.

And he’d be in my dreams, tiny and pale-faced,

dressed in a blue and white sailor’s suit,

begging me to come out and play.

A parent’s warnings were powerful medicines

but they didn’t work so well in the head.

Here was the danger that stalked innocents –

not the boogie man, not the pedophile cruising

the suburban streets, but reflections of our own selves –

curious and ignorant, edging too close to the holes in the world.
 
 
Then they said there was no such boy,

that it merely local legend invented by an older generation

just to frighten off the likes of me.

There were some who said the well served no purpose

and the council should just fill it in.

“Where’s the money coming from?” the mayor asked.

It seemed like make-believe Hector

would go without his decent burial.

Myth or no, the talk planted his seed in my brain.

My nights were his last opportunity for life in death.

“So what’s it like down there?” I’d often ask him.

“Look around you,” he’d reply.
 
 
As much as I sought out the world in stages,

there were always opportunities for brutal change at any moment.

Between learning how to read and kiss a girl,

a kid was paralyzed in a car accident.

Right on the verge of his first lesson in algebra,

another fell through the ice.

No one toppled down that well in my time

but I dropped from a tree and sprained an ankle.

And my knees were skinned more often than western settlers.

Nothing ever happened to Hector.

He was dead whether he existed or not.

I survived childhood. He disappeared,

figured I was too old not to know better.

Hector. You fell into that one, didn’t you.
 
 
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John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident. Recently published in New Plains Review, South Carolina Review, Gargoyle and Big Muddy Review with work upcoming in Louisiana Review, Cape Rock and Spoon River Poetry Review. To view more of his work Poetry Life & Times & www.artvilla.com
 
 
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Sly. A Poem by Goirick Brahmachari

 

It is not a coincidence that we abhor each other.

          That we have never tried to understand each other
          is true. But then, what are you?

I was never there, nor shall I ever be.

          That we have to endure one another to let live
          Is true. But then, what does mud tastes like? to you?

It is bitter but it’s true, I can’t help it.

          That life will go on like this when we cease to be,
          is true. But then, how real are you?

 
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Goirick Brahmachari lives in New Delhi, India. He hails from Silchar, Assam. His poems have appeared in various Indian and international magazines. Further reading of his work can be found at www.artvilla.com 
 
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Make Mayberry Great Again

I hate to be the one.
It hurts, but here goes.

Mayberry was not a place,
it was
A TV SHOW!
It was not real and we can’t go back there.
There was no there.

I’m sorry to be the one but, you see,
there were black people in North Carolina back then.

Andy, Barney and the rest?

Actors, every one.

I’m sorry.

SHE NOW MIGHT WEAR DIAMONDS. A Poem by David Spicer

 
 
The tornado I knew as Sharon left after a brief
appearance. Her grey eyes romantic to me,
a pilgrim who worked in a barn near flowers
and the cornfield, the shacks sleeping.
I wish I had wings, I wish I could shimmer:
then she might have stayed. She thundered
when I compared her to a beautiful storm,
a tortuous wind breaking hundreds of hearts.
Sharon called me a dumb devotee of Apollo,
punched me so hard I saw linnets on the ceiling,
making me regret I owned a telescope.
Sad that she now might wear diamonds,
I can only sing hymns to her in school,
but sometimes she appears to me
in dreams as a wild palomino.

 
 
 
 

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David Spicer has had poems in Yellow Mama, Reed Magazine, Slim Volume, The Laughing Dog, Jersey Devil Press, The American Poetry Review, New Verse News, Ploughshares, Bad Acid Laboratories, Inc., Dead Snakes, and in A Galaxy of Starfish: An Anthology of Modern Surrealism (Salo Press, 2016). He has been nominated for a Pushcart, is the author of one full-length collection of poems and four chapbooks, and is the former editor of Raccoon, Outlaw, and Ion Books. He lives in Memphis, Tennessee. For further views of his works see Poetry Life & Times & www.artvilla.com
 
 
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‘Library of Beautiful Hybrids’ Poetry by Ian Irvine Hobson

 
Songs of Interstitium is an online site created by Australian born poet, writer and academic Ian Irvine Hobson. I should start by telling the reader to this introduction. that I gather “Interstitium” to signify “inter-states” and that the writer in question is seeking to promote an idea of an emergent genre, as dimension for artistic creativity – “Transmedia”. The artifice he has chosen, as a literary device, is quantum physics and the multiverse, into it he pours, as in a cauldron, all the elements, science fiction, mysticism, metaphysics, mythology, archetypes, surreal fantasy, quantum physics and biological evolution to emerge with an art form in an age that finds itself transformed by the computer sciences and the digital media, the age of singularity.
 
A mysterious box containing 5 manuscripts of novels, a series of poetics and a DVD from a sect with super secrets from another world is discovered in an outback of Victoria, Australia transported from a parallel universe. The writings are created by poet and writer Rowan Sweeney, where later we find in the transcripts of the novels, Rowan Sweeney is himself a time traveller in other parallel universes, where he encounters his doppleganger likenesses living in alternative realities.
 
The theme of the multiverse, as fictional mode, is developed from the theory of physicist Hugh Everet, to explain the phenomena of the interference pattern and super position created through the double slit experiment in particle physics. The theory went into abeyance for nearly half a century until revived by quantum physicist and computer scientist David Deutch. Although, if I understand him correctly, in the two books he’s written on the subject, Fabric of Reality & The Beginning of Infinity, the idea of time travel and telepathy between parallel worlds is not a feasible reality. Nevertheless,Transmedia genre, launches us into the age of singularity, artificial intelligence and the digital media, where art and creativity must find there own special voice in an age otherwise transformed by the quantum computer .
 
In Songs of the Interstitium in Book 3 – Poetry Sequence from ‘Library of Beautiful Hybrids’ we are introduced to 3 series of poetics, all created by the fictional Rowan Sweeney. One is almost reminded of the Portuguese poet Pessoa and the many fictional identities he assumed to write poetry through. As I mentioned before, all the elements outlined previously in the first para, pervade these poems with tremendous innovative, imaginative literary force and mood. There are brilliant constructions, where the poet grapples with an understanding of consciousness and the history of archetypes that underlay it. However, I must admit, that for sheer force of lyricalism, where the poet depicts the shocked mind of Darwin, as the concept of evolution dawns on him, I personally am most drawn to the
” Coral Reverie: Voyage on the Beagle, The Darwinian Poems ” series.
 
But to return to the genre theme of Transmedia, David Deutch writes in The Beginning of Infinity his view of the importance of the art form in the emerging age of singularity in these words:
 
“This, too, is not as different from science and mathematics as it looks: poetry, mathematics or physics share the property that they develop a language different from ordinary language in order to state things efficiently that it would be very inefficient to state in ordinary language. And both do this by constructing variants of ordinary language: one has to understand the latter first in order to understand explanations, of, and in, the former.”
 
I can only add, that personally, i’m not an adherent to the multiverse theory in quantum physics, but that nevertheless it has been one of the great philosophical enigmas of the last and present century.
Editor Robin Ouzman Hislop
 
Book Three – Poetry Sequences from ‘Library of the Beautiful Hybrids’
 
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Ian Irvine is an Australian-based poet/lyricist, fiction writer and non-fiction writer. His work has featured in many Australian and international publications, including Fire (UK) ‘Anthology of 20th Century and Contemporary Poets, ’ (2008) which contained the work of poets from over 60 nations. His work has also appeared in a number of Australian national poetry anthologies, and he is the author of three books and co-editor of many more (including Scintillae 2012, an anthology of work by over 50 Victorian and international writers and poets). He currently teaches writing and literature at Bendigo TAFE and Victoria University (Melbourne) and lives with fellow writer Sue King-Smith and their children on a 5 acre block near Bendigo, Australia.
 
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Remarkable, Really – A Poem by Ron Olsen

 

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Remarkable, Really

by Ron Olsen

 

Remarkable, really

The agreement through the years

Between Coolidge

And Hoover

And those today

Who would destroy

What we have

And move backward in time

To a place where pain

Suffering

And indifference

Made us less than we are

Or what we could be

Or should be

 

Progress defiled

Denied

Denounced

Defamed

Again

By those who fear

Spiritual grace

Knowing only concrete and steel

Things

Not people

Denial of love

Accepting of fear and hate

Using it all up

Leaving none for the rest

And then blaming it on God

 

Can you remember what worked

And that which did not?

 

Coolidge

And Hoover

Reagan

And Bush

Actor and baseball syndicate millionaire

Supported by family

And friends

To qualify the few

While forgetting the rest

All for the best

At the master’s behest

An order to the masses

Who think it’s a request

 

They’ll believe anything, you know

 

With all memory gone

The body politik

Repeats the cycle

Problems forgotten

So many gone rotten

Ignorance, misinformation and lies

Bullying their way forward once again

Leaving only a dam

A great depression

A movie reel

A baseball team

And draconian denial

In their wake

While no one

Remembers why

Or who

Or when

They get away with it again

Remarkable, really

 

Ron olsen is a Peabody and Emmy winning journalist and occasional poet who lives in Bel Air, Maryland.   More of his work can be found at http://workingreporter.com/poetry.html and at workingreporter.com

Oh, California! by Ron Olsen

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 Oh, California!

by Ron Olsen

The Surfliner pulled out in the early morning haze

Rattling down the tracks

No looking back now

Hillary dressed like the palace guard

Wearing a white tent

Smiling far too broadly

A cheshire cat that swallowed a server

That ate the dove

That gobbled up a relationship with greed

Secrets impossible to keep

Smiling ear to ear

Supported by superdelegates

And a system rigged from the top

An unimpartial media

Telling us all along

Bernie had no chance

Sooner or later

You too will believe

As they peat and repeat

Endlessly bellowing

Bernie can’t win

Bernie’s a joke

Bernie’s a Socialist

The only straight-shooter out there

Who

In the end

Was betrayed by even the free-thinkers

And radical freaks in California

Who turned their backs for a woman

No matter the price

Or didn’t know they had to ask for a special ballot

Confusion breeding success for the lady candidate

And her husband’s Foundation

Depriving the country

Of one last chance

At throwing the money changers

Away from the temple doors

You did it sunny Cal

No calling it back now

As media mavens gush

With satisfaction and self-congratulation

Oh, California!

Liberal, righteous, progressive California!

Proving they were right all along

Bernie never had a chance

Even when he did

The old Vermont steamer

Slammed by a wall

Of conspiracy and collusion

Intended and unintended alike

Leaving those on the inside

Insulated from any real accountability

As the nation returns to business as usual

And the political hacks blather on

About all the baggage she carries

Needing safari bearers

Hauling it on their broken backs

The train now just a dot

In the distant

California sun

 

Ron Olsen is a Peabody and Emmy Award winning journalist.  After more than 30 years in Los Angeles, he and his wife recently moved to rural Maryland.  More of his poetry can be found at http://workingreporter.com/poetry.html