GOD TOO DOZES | Poem by R.K. Singh

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God Dozes Poem

GOD TOO DOZES

It was too late

I realized

long after his passing

I still prayed for my father

God didn’t answer

my prayers had become mechanical

like sex

ejaculation without orgasm

and pilled sleep.

The itch prevails.

The tags in the mind

don’t respond

 

absent memories

confused faith:

forgetting

faster than remembering

in moments of lapse

God too dozes

–R.K.Singh

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When We Win Poem

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Dove of Peace- Pablo Picasso

When
every child is armed
with an automatic weapon
in
Afghanistan,
in America,
is that when we win?
What do we win?
A cry for peace is just a cry
a dove is just a dove
I cry for peace

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Meditation | Poem by Julia Hones

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Meditation Poem 2

Meditation

The sun falls on my back
like a blanket.
Nothing emerges from it
to anchor the sunshine,
yet the heart is pure,
the mind clear.

The brooding on noises
will not muster the art of molding wings,
so the stillness reverberates,
nests inner voices of hope,
resets the eyes.

Amid the outside messages
and meaningless tracks
no direction arises
from the depths of despair;
there is no reason to grow flowers in a barren land.

Yet we belong to the glittering river
that never ceases to flow.

© Julia Hones 2015

Poems and short stories by Julia Hones have appeared in a vast array of literary journals and anthologies including Gadfly Online, Vox Poetica, The Artistic Muse, The Greensilk Journal, Black Mirror Magazine, Loud Zoo, The Medical Literary Messenger and many others.

Visit Julia’s blog to read more
http://juliahoneswritinglife.blogspot.com

Meditation Poem 2

Meditation Poem

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DollBaby, Population of One and Discovery | Poems by J. “Ash” Gamble

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Dollbaby
 
She’s a beauty and full
of simplicity
and I want her to remain
like the bleach white snow
inside
I want her to keep the peace
that she hides so well
from the dirty ravages of this
world.
Population of One
 
I’d be a population
of one
if I could and stay here
in this forest of self,
looking back
looking at me
stretching to meet
a fresh dawn.
Discovery
 
I made a discovery of a lake
no one else could see.
I tried to point it out to them
but they looked at me
as if I were crazy.  I took a dip
and never came back.
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Daddy Why, A poem by Summer Breeze

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Impasto Landscape Oil Painting

daddy why
is it death on the one hand
causes such grief in some
and such anger in others?

child
there are only two kinds of people
one has learned to love
and one has missed the boat.

but daddy i
hear all the people say “I love”
they buy roses and candy
and diamond rings and things?

it is semantics child
they love big cars bigger houses
and feel important when served
with smiles and bows but
what they feel is not love.

oh but daddy
i see all those angry people
they call themselves “saved”
and say they are just waiting
for “the rapture”?

sadly i know child
they believe in cheap grace
of which there is none.

when will they ever learn daddy
when will they ever learn?

we can hope it is before
they destroy our playground.

Originally published at Wordplay at Artvilla July 21, 2005

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Probation Man Blues by David Michael Jackson

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Nothing has changed
A new take on the song
doesn’t change anything.
It’s the quiet of my
voice
singing
just above the wind
…………………David Michael Jackson

 

 

Oh Mr. Probation man
I’ll tell you what it’s all about.
Them overdraft people
they done cleaned me out.
an’ I can’t pay to give you
no pee at all
in the Probation Company
bathroom stall.

I know my bill
is now overdue
and lock me up is what you
said you would do.
Oh Mr Probation Man
Don’t take me back to jail.
My babies need food.
I can’t make the bail

When the Company Prison
they let me go
they said I still had
my debt with you.
I got them beggin’
beggin’ the probation man blues.
Oh they say that crime,
crime don’t pay
but it seems to do
pretty well by you.

Stone by stone we’ve built
this house of pain
Oh please don’t take me
to jail again
Oh I don’t know
I don’t know what I’ll do.
I got them probation man
Them probation man blues.

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Enigmatic Succubus (Part II) by Mike Glover

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Moonrise Poem by Mike Glover
Enigmatic Succubus (Part II)
Look! It’s the moon!” I said as I dug my toes into the dark shadows in the sand.
“It’s going to be up soon. I can see it’s glow beginning on the horizon.”
“It happened last night too, and it will tomorrow, and yet, each night, you are amazed?” She asked.
The coyotes barked and trilled insanely in the warm California night.
A scorpion, like an animated shard of glass, crept from beneath a twig at my side. I watched it as it melted in and out of starlight, moved along the sand beside my leg, explored my right heel with an awkward, accidental bump of a pincher, then vanished into the darkness alone,
​El escorpión es el no tu amigo mi amor,” she whispered.
“I know that.” I said.
“These damned dogs have followed me from New Mexico!” I exclaimed. “Listen to them, out there screaming. That’s all they do……is scream.” I was speaking of coyotes. I’ve always hated the sound of them in the night.
“What you call screaming is only a beckoning,” she told me. “Why does it threaten you to be called?”
“I don’t speak their language,” I said.
“Sure you do,” she replied. “They speak the language of loneliness in the night. Surely this is a language you understand well….no?”
“Has no sido solo toda tu vida mi pequeña Virgen?”
“I don’t know….maybe….probably, maybe not,” I replied.
“What happened to all those years ago?” I asked her. When we were driving through a Georgia swamp with the moon overhead and a lifetime before us and you promised me that everything was going to be alright….always?”
“Yes?”
Well, it hasn’t been “allright always”…..in fact….it got pretty screwed up several times….no, MANY times along the way!”
“Yes?”
“What do you mean yes?” I asked.
​”Mira, está la luna,” she said.
“I know.” I whispered back. “It’s beautiful.”
“So what is it you want to know?” She finally asked. “Why the drama and the poor boy lost in the desert for the night without his blanket bit? You don’t think the moon has seen this story before pobrecito?”
“There have been broken hearts,”I told her, LOTS of broken hearts.”
“Si.” She said.
“There have been deaths…there has just been a lot of STUFF!” I told her.” I’ve fucked up a lot of stuff over the years. A lot of it I’ve often wished I could take back now, but I can’t.”
“Yes,” she said.
“I can take it back?” I asked.
“Of course not you silly one, no more than you can catch the scorpion that was here earlier. It is gone. It will never in all it’s life, come back to you again. You can spend the rest of your life looking for it if you want to do something so stupid but you will never see it again.”
“There ought to be something to say.” I finally said after hours had passed and the moon was edging out of the night toward a ridge of black, broken teeth on the western horizon.
“For you there is always something to say.” She said. “But there is nothing that words could ever contain that they haven’t already held and been emptied of….is there?” She asked. “Yet each time they are emptied you cannot be still until you have filled them again….then you are still not still!”
Then she left again while I was trying to figure this last one out. I heard her voice on the wind as I saw dawn creeping into the east….
“por cierto, los perros no te siguen, que les trajo con usted mi amor!”
“The dogs didn’t follow you, you brought them with you love!”
“How could you say that?”
“y todavía hablas!”
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Interstate Highways in the 1950’s

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The Fifties Then and Now

The film “highway Hearing” was produced by Dow Chemicals, with assistance from the US Bureau of Roads and the Automotive Safety Foundation, to garner support for the 1956 Federal Aid-Highway Act, the law that enabled the Interstate Highway system of America.

Film synopsis:
After a small town learns that it is to be bypassed by a new freeway, highway officials and politicians help to convince residents that the freeway is actually in their interest. The film ends as it began, at the ribbon-cutting ceremony for the new stretch of highway. …….wdtvlive42

I needed to skip around to watch this. It was well worth it. It is certainly a 1950’s idealized portrait of themselves within a bit of cool ’50’s propaganda about the interstate. Connorsville is a Mayberry, of course. I almost expected Barney to show up.
1. Is this the Republican idealized town of white people deciding great things as portrayed by Dow Chemical? Strange that they are willing to spend 51 billion bucks ($487 billion in today’s money) on roads. Such odd Republicans!
2. Some of the the arguments against the interstate highway are real. It did kill downtown areas in all small towns. It did create barriers for farmers, livestock and wildlife.
3. “Our prettiest school teacher” gives a truly inspiring speech that sounds so like a Democrat today.
4. If they had a time machine and could see today’s world, would they vote for the interstate? “Hey man it helped us get to Woodstock Dude.”….It helped us get social change. It helped us get other races in our propaganda about how well we are doing. Would they like what happened to their little Mayberry world.
Who is lying to themselves more, them or us? They pretend that their African American neighbors are not there, and, indeed they had no say. We acknowledge their presence and pretend they are free.
5. Is our generation building tanks instead of something, anything?

These folks haven’t been through the sixties yet. Since we are not so pure, then we should not be so hard on them. In their defense, they had been through World War 2 and, THEY didn’t bring their machine guns back with them. They were tired of war and spent their money on us. They could decide to do big things and pull it off.
We should listen to the school teacher.

 

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