Middle of April, 2006

The moon
tri tran

I feel the shape of the moon with my eyes, It is round like a chariot's wheel.

I feel the color of the moon with my eyes, Its amber glow dazzles my lens.

I feel the size of the moon with my eyes, It is so small that it sits, comfortably, on my palm.

I feel the weight of the moon,

It is so light that it floats like a balloon, on celestial sea.

I feel the beautiful moon with my eyes,

Knowing it's not far, at all, from where I stand.


-Jake Hogeterp

Iíve kept a roster of words,
savoured solely for their sounds,
without ever bothering
to discover
their meaning.

like polemic
and disingenuous.

Iíve allowed the pundits to brandish,
daring them to enlighten me,
then puncturing their puffery
with my willful ignorance.

But what if such words are more subtly nuanced than their commoner synonyms?
What if they impart truths
no others could convey?
Might they have offered insight, wisdom, or even solace in the early going?

Oh look!
Iíve half convinced myself
to trade discarded scriptures in
for a Funk and Wagnels upgrade,
fill in the blanks, maybe,
with definitions
of words
ítil now, mere dressing.


Now I see
What was not seen before by me
Life in depth
A life that I except
A life on steps
A lighted door leads the way
You walk through the door
But thatís not were you will stay
Stress is relieved
But you have to believe
Walking on the path
Happy with peace at last
But I have to wait
I have my life still to make
So back through the door
Down the steps and back to present life
Down to my body and soul
Were my heart starts to pump
And my blood starts to flow
This is how my journey goes
Through the dark entering the light
My journey starts tonight

Gregory Leeman Hines


thank you for the knowledge
apryl esteban

we go to school often w/c makes it a bit boring.

we hated quizzes and assignments, sumtyms we end up cheating.

there are some teachers that we like and there are lots of them that we hate.

but in the end youll see, its the teachers whom we thank!

when it cumz to our classmates, some of them are outstanding.

they have different attitudes w/c make them unique and interesting.

if you get 2 know them better, youll never regret being their friends.

and surely if u get much closer, u'd wish ur friendship nver ends.

looking back at those memories we've had 2geder, created in my heart, a sweet laughter.

and as i go on, ill olwez remember,

those moments we had and ill kip it forever.

and now, im holding dis diploma that symbolizes the key 4 a beter future, now that i passed highskul, and im heading to college, i jas wana tel my friends, family, and especially my teachers:

"i owe u everything.

thank you 4 the knowledge!!"


Roman Isayev

It was a reddish tint, an avid hue,

It seemed like paint, nothing

Much at all; but what I saw

Surprised me in the end, it was a dark and lonely blue.

The screams I read about just can't compare,

Emotions are abstractions of the heart,

The men and women died for their backyards,

The Russian souls transcended in the air.

In thoughts, the angels carried them to light,

Those men who bled for all in world war two,

While Stalin ate his caviar, and killed his daughter's

Lover, a ďdirty JewĒ, the day was after all a torpid night.

The facets of their flesh, foreboding, they may be,

Decaying stench subsumes the horror of the hour;

And here at last, I comprehend the hue; embracing

Plight obliges one to feel; to understand the hopeless misery.


Ted Courtney

The boat slams into a wave
It launches us up
And then crashing down
The other side
Each wave setting fear
And panic
Among the crew
Weíre all afraid of capsizing

With each wave we shove
Our bodies to the other
And then back again with the next wave

From occasionally tightening the ropes
Our hands become burnt
We read the orange and green telltales
And then look back to the blue
The one thing most important to be champion Is teamwork with your crew.


Mark Gibbons

I can feel it in my bones,
Slowly creeping into my walls like damp.
When I sleepí my heart quietly weeps,
As it tries to hang onto every beat,
Like a child to its favourite toy.

The summers have lost their warmth.
As for the winters chill,
Well itís long forgotten,
Like an old film that once brought
A laugh our even a tear,

Now lying in dustí never to grace your eyes again.
And like every film,
Mine has had its criticís,
And like every life, its credits.


nermin Nazim

The Milky Way is my favorite road

That takes me down to the cape of

Good hope

And up to your skies, my destination,

I strive to reach your constellation

My heartbeats scream with fascination

For my feelings of adoration

Are soaring beyond expectation

Even beyond my own imagination.



Why does one pause at the phrase 'Iron Curtain'?
There are curtains and curtains swishing through life's corridors.

The curtain of time, passing through in a trice, separating youth from age,covering the ages.
The curtains of your own mind,some silky some rocky, separating pain and pleasure, and enmeshing them too.

The curtain of space,overcome ofter by man, yet he has still to say,'So near and yet so far.'
The bumptious curtains of societal norms, visible only in thier flouting by rebels.

The curtain delicately removing reality from the throes of imagination, very aggravating, but necessary as incense to a prayer room.


The Land where I lived,
was surrounded by the sea.
In the silence of the fish,
I find my self in anxiety.

When My Land I leaved,
a bitter tear I freed.
In the obedience of the fish,
I find my self in anxiety.

Sadly, My Land is ruled by He,
Itís a sorrow growing in Me.
In the dread of the fish,
I find my self in anxiety.

My beloved Land left in Me,
My most beautiful memories.
In the sea, between my family and me,
I find my self in anxiety.

Jose C. Martinez 


                                                       If the question has an answer It is not a question ZEN

Entering a house

Where you had never been

You see on the walls

Shapes from dreams

And ask: can reality

Be around the corner

Or is all delusion.

joe quinton


Waterloo to Waverley
Mick Bradley

I must be off, toodle-oo
as my friend dashes through
the meeting doors
without a pause
has gone my aspiration
a one with wich im sure, you'll share with me. . some relation

I turn round to meet the sation
a businessman and his patient
a man whos all to albi'on
just like that of his thick haired son
and don't forget thee platform
all men clad, uniform
clad of that - dirty all-overs
hear beating feat, sinister men . . and their bowlers

Occuring from, Waterloo to Waverley
Oh come now and you must see
All this to conjour up
the definition when you lookup
an Englishman in the dictionary
you'll realise that the stereotype, is not all that . . fictionary.


What the dead house says
Claire Moore

As the dead house saw my shadow,

I heard the whisper of the wind.

It came knocking on the windows,

And said ďAh let me in.Ē

The thunder roared with anger,

The sea howled on and on,

The wind blew the window open,

A mummy came out of the ground,

He said ďbeware, your in for a scareĒ

And with that, they were gone


I am not the mightiest,

I may not be the brightest.

But i will always remember when

You helped me become the strongest!

I will never be the fastest.

I won't ever be the tallest.

But I wil always remember how

You made me the strongest

I am always going to end up the strongest.

Just so you know,

That you were wrong!

And that I will move on

Without you.

Brittany Pritchard


War and Peace

War is the Devil's way of teaching us Geography, But alas! It creates dark histories.
Wars are fought because of greed and deceit, Peace and love is all we need.
The results of war: death and destruction; Hate and disgrace: the felicitations.

Peace is the rainbow with more than seven colors, But war is a bouquet with dead flowers Paradise and Nirvana are the states of ultimate peace, No-War is the chant to begin the bliss.
Truth, Justice and Joy are Peace's best friends, But war is the power in front of which they all end.
War is a video game-
With no winners, no losers and no real names.

War is a by-product from the Devil's workshop Peace is a gift from Heaven's mountain-tops Ceasefire and unity has to be signed in "The Treaty of Dove"
Then shall the world live with Truth, Peace and Love Peace is the path in which- The meaning of life shall unfold.
War is a bloody dish-
Best served cold.


White Dove
Aderemi Adegbite

White dove the symbol of peace
Up above the sky you fly
North and south you pace the sky.

White dove the prophet of peace
Here I am I need your peace
Before my people fall to pieces

White dove please pace my path
And bring to me your perfect peace
Before my people fall apart.

White dove apostle of peace
Here we are we need your peace
Fly our path the Black folks space.

White dove spread your peace
On every beings on this earth space
To leave as one but not in pieces!



Roads are like poems

never finished.

Always coming back

to that one same road

and keep constructing more.

Construction workers

the writers of the poem

always coming back

to fix and repair


To fill in the holes

and mold them stronger.

They are still never complete,

I know Iíve been down that road



You Don't Have To Be What You're Writing About 
by Bill Albright

I been thinking about something contrary Could make some of my writing extraordinary I like to write about western events and life Mostly from my learning, not that life's strife

Recently I submitted some cowboy poetry

To an Internet source, innocently

The response to the submission made clear to me That poetry given consideration most favorably

Were about and by working cowhands

Now I know I have no such plans

To go at my age and condition riding the range So it seems some one is wanting my writing to change

Can't write about the west if you are from the east Nor if you wear shorts, sandals, avoid dealing with beasts That puts lots of pressure on many a writer Melville wasn't a whaler or Louis L. a gunfighter

Both of them and many other authors of might good works Seldom if ever adhered to rules of some editor's quirks Fact is, cowboys, even us wannabes, don't like lots of rules Being fenced in, thinking we're hobbled tools

For writers it's most important what we say Giving us latitude, to rhyme or scheme in our own way So let's not put up barriers, closing the mind's orginality Let us write freely, encouraging individual creativity

Thanks for letting me say my piece

Making my point to consider, at least

That I don't have to be, or pretend by playing a part In the genre I'm writing about.


Khalid Ahmad

i found a place where no one

secluded from all but


secluded, yet still

t'is come to face



by: Micah Almazan

A chair not meant for me is where I am seated on Alone, drowning in a deep dark corner in a plain white room Plain but not empty The walls are embedded with ten eyes Ten eyes, which pressure me like they are a hundred A hundred eyes that act as one Every pulse in my wrist, every drop of blood in my vain Every blink of my eye, every particle of dust caught by my lashes Everything subtle is the predatorís prey They are inescapable That door at the end of the room is still in my strained mind That door will vanish from my head at my chosen time With which the equilibrium in this room will be disturbed My thoughts are stripes of confusion Why am I trapped in the predatorís cage?

If my outsider friends put on a veil to be unrecognizable The cageís walls will be watching an investigation happening in my head An investigation for a taint in my temperament A taint that forced the veil on the faces of my outsider friends While my chosen time has not come to pass, Alone, drowning in the deep dark room in this plain white room Will be my daysí pattern


Some Have Yet Begun To Live
Nicole Davis

Some have yet begun to live

Some yet begun to see

What lies upon the road

For you and me to be

Yet we see past all the words

And look past all the lies

And stare blindly in the shadows

Of our ever quieting minds

Still with life upon the stool

And the world upon the table

We shall come and see the beauty

Of the work done in the stables

The people who know how hard life is

And what a struggle it always is

To try to get enough money

Just so their kids can live

The people who work all day for money

And never see a dime

Of act like their life is great

And everything is fine

To the people who know the feeling

When someone who stabs you in the back

Or the feeling that you get when the one you care about Is never coming back To the soldiers that are fighting So that America is free and safe And fighting for the lives That the terrorists had to take To the person in your life That makes you want to live To see their face forever Laying on top your skin To those who helped on the way And all of those to come To your one and only Always show them that you care For maybe when you wake tomorrow They may not be there.


Bill Fitzsimons

Night-time comes too soon these days,
a time of turmoil and horror.
"The horror, the horror!" Ah, Mr. Kurtz, if you only knew, you wouldn't speak so lightly of these matters.
I have seen the best minds
of my generation destroyed
by perversity, lust and money-madness:
no love, compassion, tenderness or gladness.
And I? I am no exception--
I too have succumbed to greed and corruption; I too have broken bread with the Devil.

And in the dark hours before dawn,
I writhe in sweat-soaked agony,
my soiled soul stinging with remorse,
my demons howling at me.
The things I've done, the things I've seen are always with me--I am unclean.
You got it bad? I got it worse--
you're a lucky bastard, Mr. Kurtz.



I asked darkness for light and the Sun winked at the Moon.

I bound Time to Eternity and the child in me died young.

I looked hatred in the eye and Love shied away

I held my thoughts in my mind yet stories came out of the blue.

I gave my silence a tongue and it spoke of NOTHING...............


Taboo feelings
Eminus Sleepus

When I look at you I see hope

And to my troubles I can elope

When I touch you I am at ease

Because my worries are left behind the abyss When I think of you I forget my troubles As if they are popping like bubbles

How I long to hold your lovely face

For you in my mind I canít erase

Through a tender kiss on that cherry red lips My gloomy heart would surely be out of the eclipse When you are at my side holding my hand I fear no troubles for now I understand

Even though I canít call you mine

And you and I canít cross over the line

Please know this that I am here for you

And my feelings for you will be forever true I will hold your hand forever if I can Even if they will utterly call me a madman

For what is sanity if to live without you It wont mean a thing if you only knew To feel this way today is tormenting And I donít want in the end to be regretting So I want you to know before I lay myself Let this be a secret to our self


An Educational Pledge, 
by Alberto O. Cappas

I pledge to maintain a

Healthy Mind and Body

Staying away from the Vice of drugs

I pledge always to try my Best to understand The importance of Knowledge and Education I pledge to paint a Positive picture of where I plan to be in the future Not allowing obstacles to stop the growth of my Plans I pledge to seek Answers to Questions, With the understanding that they Will lead to other discoveries I pledge to work Firm With the Awareness and Confidence That firm work Today will serve As the Seeds for my strong Tree tomorrow A Tree that no one will be able to tear down I pledge to learn proper languages, Beginning with my Mother's Always prepared to Appreciate others I pledge to gain a better understanding of Me By understanding my Cultural roots I pledge to fully accept Me as a human being A Rainbow of many cultures and colors I pledge to overcome any Personal misfortunes Becoming Stronger from such misfortunes Always striving to become A wise person.


I Am An American 
Lady Maquiladores

SŪ, SeŮor.

Do you want fries with that?

SŪ, SeŮorita.

Should I use fabric softener? you I look like everyone.

Every Color skin.

The Great American Melting Pot.

Oh, Iím sorry, The Great American Tossed Salad.

Well, America can toss my salad as far as Iím concerned.


I am not Hispanic.

That is some bullshit term that Nixon invented.

I am Latina.

Very much A Latina American Woman.

That means that I am from Latin American decent and I donít take any shit, But not in that stereotypical everyday way that is designated for Mexican/Spanish/Puerto Rican American Women who say what is on their mind.

I will not fit your space

Fill your face

With your image of me.

I will not discount the women who look like me that:

Clean your floors

Wash your clothes

Make your meals

Watch your kids

Take your orders

And I will tell you I am a RICH Latina woman.

But I will not vote for Bush (Or be impressed that he speaks Es~panole) And I have a college education But I will not forget where I came from

Or where I am going...
I am a Latina American Woman


Amit Balan

War is not a choice..

But a loser's way to raise his voice..

He may not think it twice..

But he better be if he is wise..

"Smoke em out" he says..

But its the innocent who pays..

Feed the poor instead..

You will find yourself wanted..



The Constable had found the man 'round five on Friday morn, Apparently while on his shift from midnight through till dawn.

Two youths, with blood stains on their clothes, detained drunk in the park Disclosed they'd rolled some homeless bloke, sometime just after dark.

As Sergeant in this country town I'd lived round here for years; Observed some pretty callous things, but this left me in tears.

The aged and fragile frame lay slumped there in a pool of mud And through his snow white hair and beard was clotted, crimson blood.

The Constable looked up and said, "There fam'ly we can call?

For surely someone knows him Sarge. You know the bloke at all?"

"He's know 'round here as Stumpy lad, been here a year or two.

Came out way back in sixty-three to work on Beetaloo, Then worked his way to overseer and often came to town; Was captain of the football team, a sportsman of renown.

He married pretty Sheila Clark and when his son was four They called conscripts for Vietnam, which saw him go to war."

"A war of conflicts that would scar and traumatise the mind, Confusing, cruel, and futile acts some failed to leave behind.

Inherent post traumatic stress was that war's legacy, Together with the stump you see attached below his knee.

The old man lying there my lad is testimony too A life spent fighting guilt and fear his mind could not subdue.

Poor Sheila shared his sleepless nights, the flashbacks and his pain, But in the end she lost the fight as Stumpy left again."

"He camped in squats around the town and drowned his pain with wine, Withdrew into his own quiet world, content now to resign, From all of life's inequities, the company of folk, But all the town saw Stumpy Shore, a harmless poor old bloke.

His Sheila raised their only son, who still lives here today; Who cared for her through all those years until she passed away.

She'd told him of the man she'd known before he went to war, So in his mind he held no grudge against old Stumpy Shore."

"In fact one day down by the creek, while Stumpy washed his socks, He saved a lad from drowning as he'd dived onto some rocks.

The boy he saved that very day was his own grandson Kim; Ironical, I guess eh lad, that Stumpy should save him."

"You know Sarge, when I found the man, I thought him just a bum And judged the bloke on what I saw, but this has left me numb.

The facts are mighty sob'ring Sarge and now I feel real bad.

You reckon we can find his son?" ... "You're talking to him lad."

© Australian Bush Poet
Merv Webster


Donít care much
Grant McNally

I donít care much for money

And I donít care much now for fame

Iíve had my fingers caught in the honey-pot Whilst stoking up the flames


ĎOhí, I have seen them come and go

Those blaggers, crooks and thieves.

They may have fooled the man who fooled millions But, their ainít no fooling me

And I donít care much now for drugs

Nor care for alcohol

And Iím through with being obscene

With the cabinet in the hall

ĎOhí, I have seen them stagger in

And stagger out again

And if it ainít got bells and whistles on it Then leave it out in the rain!


Goodbye Old Friend (I quit smoking)
Ahmed Ibrahim (March 2006)

Oh how we used to meet so many times a day, old friend, You used to listen to my secret thoughts and calm me down, Used to pick me up and tell me straight, Soothe away my pain, focus my mind.

Oh how we used to kiss on lips, old friend, And when times got bad or bored, You gave me something to look forward to, Maybe I never admitted it to myself before, But, honestly, I must have been in love with you.

Do you remember when we met twelve years ago, I didn't like you then, especially since you caused my dad so much pain, I don't know how, but before long I was totally infatuated with you, Like a silly little school girl, But you were cool and made me feel cool, I needed that, confidence boost,

I think you know why I've been avoiding you, Why I don't say hi, when I see you in the street or somewhere else, I think you'll understand, as they said on that website, The first rule of breaking addiction is, Never take another puff.

But, I thought it can't be any harm, and anyway, After all we've been through together, I really should and really would like to say, Goodbye old friend


Anton van Schalkwyk
Divided since birth,
ignorant of worth,
soulless and befouled,
the one remained behind.
Divided by birth,
a minor key in the fifth,
lost without each other,
father and brother,
daughter and mother.
Divided in pleasure,
taking joy in the treasure,
then rips it all asunder,
hand raised in supplication,
as the head goes under.
And then a stone is thrown,
striking destiny just right,
rebounds and continues on and on and on and on
No longer be divided,
no longer stand beside yourself,
its so worthless, throw down your wealth!
before it claims you,
bits and pieces of your soul,
starting with your health...


Comin Back
Bill Albright
Don't know if we just up and go
Like to think it weren't so
Some believe that after we die
We don't go grazin in the sky
We return to earth in a natural state
How we live now is how we recreate
A form in which we'll work once more
Not knowin what we'd been before
Now I know that store keeper'll back a deer Cept for his cheatin, he's nothin to fear Some I have met will come crawlin on their belly They're snakes as men, so return the same they'll be
Ole Jules'll fly like an eagle, bald for sure Matchin his scalp nd lofty stature A gal in Laramie once upon a time I knew Will be cuddly, soft, made for pettin, lovin you
Me I could come back a wolf, on the prowl Or it kin, who at full moon'll howl But if I get a choice, since I don't like to share I really want to come back as a grizzly bear.



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Page Copyright © 2006.

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