I really like to look at maps
And find places Iíd like to goíta
Like Morrow, Ohio; Knight, Indiana
And the small town Day, Minnesota.
So I began to plan my trip
And to help me guide my way
I went to my telephone,
And called up Triple A.
I told the lady on the phone,,
That tomorrow Iíd like to go to Day
Then maybe go to Morrow tonight
If you could find a way.
Because, yesterday I went to Knight
And today I could go to Morrow
Tomorrow I still plan to go to Day
And return to Knight tomorrow.
She then said, ďPardon me,
I fear we have one of those bad connections, 
Because I did not understand a word you said 
And cannot give directions.Ē
Well, tomorrow I still need to go to Day 
Perhaps to go to Morrow today, 
I need to return to Knight tomorrow 
To finish what I started yesterday.
ďWell sirĒ, she said Iíve heard you twice, 
And still I canít digest ití
So donít call us, weíll cal you,
And next time just Map Quest it.Ē



By Ruth Walters


My angel of the night

came down the stairs of morning

his hair, brown locks of greasiness,

his mouth, those sweet lips, yawning.


He stopped three steps from earth that day

and looked at something far away

but then, as I began to pray,

he stepped over and ignored them.


He took four steps across the room

he missed the cloth, the pan, the broom

the squashed chips below his feet,

upon the kitchen flooring!


Alas my fallen angel there,

sat his bottom on a chair

and with hand sweeping through his hair

ate his breakfast without care.


Without care for chips all squashed

flattened on that kitchen floor

A floor so needy for a wash

and I exclaimed to him, ďOh Golly Gosh!Ē


I brought the mop, the bucket too

I cleaned the floor the sink, the loo

and then I had a notion to;

but my angel wouldnít let me through.


Squashed chips on the kitchen floor

last nights washing up.

Sticky table, ashtrays full

and an empty coffee cup.


Linda Mannke
When my laundry has been spun
My pairs of socks come back as one.
Where they go I do not know . . . 
I just keep searching high and low.
I keep the singles even though . . .
Just in case some day they show.
Perhaps one stripe and one argyle
Will one day be a new sock style.
Until then sock makers hear my plea . . .
Make those socks in pairs of three!
T rex, ten times the size of man.
With claws the size of the human skull.
With its massive jaws, it rages out at the weak plant eaters.
Each drop of blood, makes him happy.
This great dinosaur has no friends, he'll eat them all for lunch and dinner.
And for breakfast, well just their precious  eggs.
Its skull could crush a human flat.
Also uses his skull to attack the enemies.
With a roar that is heard miles away.
You don't want to be friendly with this great beast.
By Barbara Alyea-Welches
Winter rushed in,
it was cold, it was wet.
We knew it would blizzard,
by night-time and  bed.
A flurry of wind, turning bright white.
somehow, lit up the dark, cloudy night.
The wind picked up, it looked so cold.
We shivered from our heads to out toes.
Blowing and drifting, we all heard it groan.
It was fierce,  it was mighty, this winter storm.
We hugged and we huddled, Ďneath covers below.
And , watched out the window, at the first winter snow.
simone castillo
silent like
the stillness that i seek
when i breathe in deeply
is a silence forever precious to this soft petal of my heart 
where my dreams are dreamed and first felt 
where my contemplation's of stumbling down crumble, 
frowns swallowed up by the simplest quiet fears 
wrapped up in the widest blanket of silence that is 
silent like
the wind that swims through me
when i glance to you and you
place your mind into my eyes
you say nothing and tell me everything
i feel something in you that is a way of hush 
communicating like silence that is 
silent like
the place in me that is slowly patient, 
inviting and massive quiet enough that 
when i listen i can hear me saying to my self 
how silently precious the mild quiet is to me 
and how happy i am to be me.


No one appealed to what was best in me
For years I stood under their weight,
And I never asked why it was too much to bear- 
They donít care where you get your strength, 
Once theyíve built their perfect future
Something so big, you canít wrap your mind around it 
Theyíll wonder why you break 
And leave you fallen, standing On the wreckage of your past
Theyíll leave you fallen, standing,
Well Iím standing, still,
Out of sight, out of mind
Tired, and alone


i wish i could fly
so high that i could touch the sky
so high that i could touch a cloud
with no one else around
them those people
you know those people
back stabbing
they are here
they there
they must be everywhere
so i wish
oh i wish
i could fly
so far away those people would sigh
what have i done.
My lungs werenít made for breathingÖ
Joe Buhler
My lungs werenít made for breathing,
I think I might have lost this feeling.
This is the thing that we both started,
But the ending I never wanted.
I never thought it would break me down,
Guess it was just my turn to frown.
Hope itís everything you always wished for, 
Because thatís my heart lying motionless on the floor.
Whoever thought you could shine so bright, 
Especially when the clock struck midnight.
Itís time to let go she said,
Will I be able to stop these voices in my head?
Now Iím stuck in this imposition,
I should have made a decision.
The last time I walked the other way,
Is the reason I drop to my knees and pray.
These lungs werenít made for breathing,
Now I think I am leaving..

An Anarchist's Prayer
Luke O'Neal

I climb this hill in my mind

With dreams floating up above in the sky And I sigh as I take my paintbrush And paint the rest of the night Society's dreamers it is time to take flight

The time has come when we must step forward And not with a crushing fist, but a simple wish Break down the cultural barriers and restore rights that never were The time has come when we must step forward Opening up the hearts of men Shattering prejudice, intolerance, and sexism

Our fingerprints are on the bodies of the oppressed The poor and exploited, the beaten and discarded, the forgotten Now our hands must go out and tear off the ropes binding them Opening up the hearts of men They shall feel love for the first time.

Equal in every right, both men women and children We are the people, not of America But of the World The time has come For the Age of Good


A cockatoo was sent from the South
To the Emperor of Manchu
He sang the warm song of the southern wind With a voice like a silver flute.
His plumage was crimson and cinnabar
Like a red chrysanthemum
His heart, as intense as a splendid sea
A tremulous Chinese drum.
Bell like carols pure as white morn
He sang for the court of Manchu
All the princes with their oblique eyes
Were amazed at the cockatoo.
And the slant eyed courtiers in their silken coats 
Each with a raven queue 
Soft saffron robes and quiet laughing smiles 
Bowed to the cockatoo.
So the Emperor gave him a golden cage
Since he sang so wondrously
And locked him away, forever enclosed
In gilded captivity.
Yet his soul was a song and it flew like a poem 
Beyond the Manchu gate 
Down rivers of dreams and streams of flowers 
Where the winds of Heaven wait.  
 P. A. McCarron
A girl died today
Shai Wall Tangerine 
A girl died today
what was I to do?
What was I to say?
I Had to think it through.
What If?
What if the body were of someone I knew or loved?
Could I bear the Pain?
when 'push' comes to 'shove',
Would I be left in the rain?
What if it were I being the horrid sight?
What if it were me? The girl who closed her eyes?
Would I be able to take flight?
Would I soar through the skies?
What if?
What if it were my brother or sister?
My mother or a mister,
someone that I did not know? 
Would pity be there?
Would sympathy show?
A Cycle
by Bill Albright
Dawn again and morning
Confirms my existence
Repeat the cycle warning
Dawn again and morning
Once again this day replacing
Night with light, a time past tense
Dawn again and morning
Confirms my existence.
Sergey Merkuliev
I looked for address
Long & everywhere But
Building was pulled down
I aimed but
Target was accurately
Spat with white gum
I found her photo
But she seemed someday
To change her face
Sweet Land
take me home to the sweet land
where everyone holds hands
where the grass is green and the the sky is blue and the fruit is sweet 
please take me home where the land is sweet
Left Behind
Life get's longer
You get stonger
but yet i stay the same
with a smile on my face
i struggle to keep the pace
and try to hide the shame
of a meaningless existence
getting shorter day by day
wondering if i'll ever change
or if i'll just stay this way.

Frank Ayala

water a mirror
fragments disrupt images
nature takes it's course

the invincible storm
tri tran
Far, in the cold eastland,
Crimson fire flutters, helplessly,
Lonesome branches vibrate,
Cherries, scattered by the shivering pond.
Wind in the vortex of the nights,
Howling, a wolf in endless hunger.
Angry tentacles sweep the nation,
Blazing eyes, endlessly, gleam.
Cries of the owls echo through seas,
Indigo waves soars into the foggy air,
Fluorescent embers in the empty sky,
Waking the Gods and the devils.


As I gaze upon you,
you were shining quietly on the sky.

I can feel that is beauty in your quietness and calm, It seem like you are undisturbed by the worldly affairs.

I like to gaze upon you,
because you are beautiful as the diamond, and when I see you, I feel I am like you, put all the problems away just to enjoy the quiet moments with you under the whispering of the gentle night wind, the buzz of the insect.


Just A Smile
I am, just a smile
Who will I touch
Who can I touch
I want to bring you back from many miles.
 I am just a smile 
That wants to make the world smile.
Life is beautiful ,
Every day of Life has shine ,
Every  time  of the Life speared love to other
So , Every time , Every moment has become pleasant to 
Everyone, If  thought of the  every person  becomes  good .
Make our Life as Tree ,
Flower ,
Sun ,
Moon ,
River ,
Earth and
It not made any difference to the earth.
Equal everyone .
So, make yourself or
Built yourself as these.
So, our world become Beautiful , Peaceful , livable . 
Ajit Kumar


A Stone Age forward-thinker,
Defied the tribal law
When he ceased to hunt or gather,
And decided he would draw.
He was very nearly outcast,
But he bartered with the tribe.
He concocted a win-win
Which he commenced then to describe.
ďIf Iím allowed to draw
And remain here with you all,
To you Iíll give eternal life
Through my pictures on the wall.
Iíll draw our way of living;
The world seen through our eyes.
And in doing so, ensure,
That our history never dies.Ē
They accepted his proposal;
Consent to him they gave.
And thus they live forever
Through the drawings in their cave.
Dwight Jambor
Falling 50 feet from above
In search of her white dove
No longer will she cry
No longer will she lie
Reasons beyond your imagination
Such a drastic transformation
Once a silent angel
Now a silent statistic.
Not one gave their hand
To help her stand
Not one showed care
To help her bear
Not one showed love.
Lost within
But condemned to sin?
In the pursuit of perfection
Due to lack of affection.
They say thin
I say inadequate kin.
Christine Johnstone


Mindless Music a nonsense poem Mindless Music.
Jose Osoria

The song is noise.
Please turn off that awful voice.
The mindless music that I hear.
Continues on even when I tear.
I'll knock and knock on their door.
Too bad their sound level is so awfully poor.
The rockers are forcing me to move. 
To a place where only cows moo. 
scooter wilson.
so fake it even smells like butter, queezy.
in the arms of wasted time, believing lies.
this wont get you down, this is not your town.
watch me i am the worm hiding in the trees.
swift but unappealing, time ticks on like nothing.
she stands up in the corner watching leaves fall.
into the big picture sweating away the memories.
it is cold outside but i am not there.
to unfold in the morning dew
i am losing you
to pretend that this day is new
im losing you
wrap around the english man creating coffee.
swing it down to me as i crave for more.
i am nothing but what you say im not.
nothing has ever been this clear.
touch the ground like a finger pointing to the sky.
and tell me if it feels like the world is leaving you.
i will tell you to hold on and bring you back.
to the life that you thought you knew.
by Lewis Dalton
I cannot remember
Your sweet smile,
The turn of your head,
Try as I might. 
You perhaps were a dream,
Gone with all my yesterdays.
Lost, perhaps, In too many moods. 
Changing my mind. 
Shades like colors,
Lost in the sunset,
Not quite remembered. 
And yet -
Those moments were sweet. 
How I long 
   to recapture even one. 
By: Wanda James
Next week, on Wednesday morningÖno, on
Thursday afternoon Iím going to sit down and cry.
Iím going to cry until my head aches and my Ears get hot.
Iím going to cry until my eyes hurt and I Have to put cold water on them to stop the burning.
Iím going to cry for things shared and
Not appreciated.
Iím going to cry for things promised yet, Never received Ė 15 minutes of happiness or 10 minutes of peace.
Iím going to cry for directions taken
And changes made mid-stream.
Iím going to cry for old times and new times
And times I canít really recall.
Iím going to cry for past hurts and future hurts
And hurts that really shouldnít have mattered at all.
Iím going to cry for emptiness and fullness and 
Halfway feelings in between.
Iím going to cry forÖ
No Iím notÖ.I donít have time to cry.
novata jones
YES WE SURVIVED OUR OWN BLACK HOLOCAUST.                                 

            Bring forth the sun with rays of brilliance
            To shine on this face of porcelain
            Send a soft soothing rain, to wash away
            the pain.
             Arrive a silhouette tall with eyes of green
             and hair of black; a velvet soul to bend the 
             ache in the heart of silken glass, the soft
             curves of smooth, texture and limbs that bend.
    dream the dream, to touch the 
             statue for real. The clouds now, the sun and
             rain are gone, they are so soft and gentle,
             the whisper..........   

Itís all about movements
Prick and sip the drops of blood
Stare at the lion and the Unicorn
Tied in their perspectives.
Whereís the gaze
The bow and the arrow
Death in the eyes
Of your strongest ally?
What goes up must come down
Or else break the code
The fingers will be the same
Which write your death sentence.
Somewhere up there the sky
In the eye of the storm
So much to die for
Too much to live.
The world can end up now
And leave time to brood
Or fix us upon the wall
To forget to forgive.





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Page Copyright © 2006.

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