OPEN MIC ARCHIVES
September 1, 2003
OPEN MIC ENCORE I September, 2003
OPEN MIC ENCORE II September, 2003
THE ICKy ABC’s
How long is it from the time girls learn their ABC’s and stop yelling
“ICK” at boys? Before you know it, she is noticing the boy next to
her in class. His name is DICK. And soon the boys are fighting
over her, cause even a HICK gets a KICK when he’s LICKed. But then
later she has to chose between MICK and NICK but why PICK. What the
hell, have them both and throw in RICK. Some may think it’s SICK, but
if that’s what makes you TICK. We all know she is going to end up with
a dark muscle bound dude named VIC, who’s just dropped some other girl named
Kay. Is there a guy in the world who isn’t looking to dip his
WICK? And I suppose that is why this all begins and ends with DICK.
Boys’ boys everywhere
Are they looking at me?
Or the anorexic behind me?
They do not see me
With the actual curves
All they see
Are anorexic girls who are ugly
All the time
Are they digging my clothes?
Or digging me a grave of doubt?
I do not want a boy like that
No way no how
In my life
I see a boy
Who I think is cute
He doesn’t know me
I hope he will soon
His name is Shane
And I like him
. . . To Dance
Bottle, half empty, I’m now in the mood to dance.
In days past I would often forsake food to dance.
You ask what more to life than wine, women and song.
To complete the picture you must include the dance.
So let us waltz again through a Strauss-blue river,
Drink that intoxicating liquor brewed by dance.
Turning, turning, turning—the semazens, in turn,
Salute each other before they conclude their dance.
Those predatory thrusts of Argentine tangos
Bring elements so wonderfully lewd to dance.
As couples begin to form, the blind fiddler strikes
A jig so fast it seems almost too rude for dance.
Blossoms in the fruit orchard are falling now, our
Petal covered dance floor, a prelude to the dance.
The beginning of a stately pavane proceeds
With requisite bows and curtsies, cued to the dance.
This sublime art of movement brings an aura of
Grace to form—I long to be renewed by this dance!
Anna Carmeli Sampiano
I look into the water of the lake
all that I see is of your face
Liquid hypnotic grace
as I reach to touch your romantic face
and fades away
Iâ€™m alone with silent water
The moon glows a kiss upon the lake
just the moon
I weep for the moon
For I am the moon
and you my stars
Tonight I shine alone
and whisper your name
onto the water
until it ripples
and fades away
by Bill Albright
From those buried in the ground
You will hear silence profound
Lying sheltered from the world of things
Expect much in this world of beings.
Trust yourself more than those who pass by
For you see not the heart, only the eye
Which views a world of nothings
Expect much in this world of beings.
Life's sum is much more than each part
Live it as your masterpiece of art,
The single permanence is existing
Expect much in this world of beings.
YOUNG PORTRAIT OF AN ARTIST: AN ODE TO JOYCE
Raymond Joshua Jones
slightly off kilter
jumbled and jilted
all caught in thoughts a ravishing
and biting at the brain
ringing and singing angelic
all mixed with pulling and thrashing
desires all hellish
all put down to cohesive jibberish
released in the strokes of a pen
wanting all distracted thoughts
all dying souls all dismissive days
all womanish wants to end
to fly, to fly
not too close to the ocean
nor too close to the sun
with waxed on wings a soaring
to learn that which is an unknown art, to restart
and wash away all sin
to begin again
Happy Birthday to me! Happy Birthday to me! I'm tired of
looking at the bright side to trick my heart. Every thing in life is
as I feared in the start. So now should I yet paint an other smile.
I've done it so long I am a lair to my soul, no need to worry, no need as
they enjoy watching me fall. THEY are not what I ever wanted to be.
So here I am alone in my world silently screaming OUTLOUD! It's not that
they wont hear me they take stock in my pain. When they don't see me
looking I can feel them laugh. This is not me in their attacks.
Simply shallow I wish for no contact as I fall into eternal bliss?
Happy Birthday to me, Friday the 13th from day one life dealt me the creeps!
No more time for bitch'n. It's much more fun witch'n. Right back
at ya, Babe...From the cradle to the grave. --Constance Lynn
Five to Three
Copyright 2002 Anne Mikusinski
What are the odds,
That God is a gambler
As He throws the stars out
Onto nights' black velvet table,
Makes a wager
That you are standing out,
And looking up,
Admiring His handiwork
(As I am),
And wishing I were there?
Laughin' at the pain
BY;Samuel S. Benedict III
The dark before the moonlight,has my eyes caught in a daze,
it's like a love without the passion,it's an urge without the craze,
the feeling of couragesness brings all time to a standstill,
it's a feel without the feeling, it's a death without the kill,
Can I break these chains of an open book that binds me?
it's been twisted and rearranged,but the truth is you can't find me,
now stand and scream in the pourin' rain, as life it falls all around you
all that's left to feel is the pain,I won't have to remind you.
The future is upon us and this life I will accomplish,
it's like pushing for the finish line when you know you've already
it's a fire without a blaze,it's the ice without the cold,
trapped in a life that's like a maze now it's time to break the mold
The light flashed before my eyes, everything else just faded
now it's time to realize that the truth is what we make it,
I cannot beleive my eyes, this world has fell into shame,
it's like screaming for the end to come,
and then laughin' at the pain.
In the depths of
your sapid darkness
lie your sole claim
to humanity and happiness!
barren of trust and care
vacant with mores
you're bland and dank
like an Almajeri's bowl!
gorged with selfness
you scheme to win
even when winning
scorches your very soul!
sapient like the Serpent
you worm your way
through timed coitus
to timeless grieving!
but in the depths of
your now vapid wetness
dwell the sad ruins
of humanity and happiness!
BY ODETTE CABELLO.
THERE WAS A WOMAN WHO WAS THINKING ABOUT HER HUSBAND. HE WAS GONE FOR
A WHILE AND SHE WAS WONDERING WHEN SHE WOULD SEE HIS SMILE. SHE
DOESN'T KNOW WHEN HER HUSBAND WILL COME HOME BUT SHE KNOWS THAT THE WARRIORS
ANGELS FROM THE LORD ARE GUARDING HER HUSBAND WHEN HE'S SLEEPING IN THE
DESERT ALONE. THAT WOMAN IS SO IN LOVE WITH HER HUSBAND BECAUSE EVEN
IN HER DREAMS SHE PLEDGED TO THE PEOPLE WHO DON'T BELIEVE THAT SHE WILL WAIT
AND LOVE HER HUSBAND UNTIL HE COMES HOME FROM THE COUNTRY OF ALADDIN.
SOMETIMES SHE LAUGHS, SOMETIMES SHE CRIES AND HIDES FROM THOSE FOUR LITTLE
EYES, SOMETIMES SHE'S HAPPY, SOMETIMES SHE'S SAD, SOMETIMES SHE'S STRONG BUT
RIGHT NOW SHE'S ALONE WONDERING WHEN HER LOVING HUSBAND WILL COME HOME.
FOR MY HUSBAND, DEPLOYED SINCE JANUARY 2003 TO IRAQ AND STILL OVER THERE.
GOD BLESS THE TROOPS!!!
...is difficult as they say
but full of wonders everyday
sometimes weak, sometimes cruel
which makes you wise and sometimes cool.
...is a gift from God to me and you
to live your life is the best way you can do
it's full of pain but it helps you to be strong,
so don't be afraid if you've done something wrong.
"There are many paths to the top of the
mountain, but the view is always the same."
With silk and satin rustling
bare skin like rose petals
I close my eyes...
Allowing my mind
to drift, breathing calms...
Sitting lotus style
my psyche blooms with questions
about Buddha, Dharma, life
Soul yearns for tranquility,
but all this eludes my grasp--
turmoil churns restlessly
within my being,
all that I
seek seems so far away...
impassioned plea for stillness
of the mind, heart, and soul.
Facing the long drive home
The gray sky is dreary
Mist shrouds trees and the distance
Small raindrops on the window
Trickle to a stop
Tufted grass rises in small waves
Leafless trees wrap themselves in fog
Dark mountains turn into more hills
More hazy bushes and bleak road appear
I can still smell chlorine on my skin
The window steams up
For a moment all I see is blurred shapes
Racing by with the wind
The sky lowers onto the land
It presses down and stretches forever
Thunder rumbles somewhere
Sleep tugs at my eyelids
Cowboy hat pulled low over my eyes,
I drive my truck into the thick Texas night.
I stare at the white stripes on the highway
And my thoughts turn to you.
I imagine you are right beside me in my truck.
I can feel your warm touch on my arm.
I can smell your sweet fragrance next to me.
It would be so easy just to cry right now.
The air is too thick and the night is too dark,
I am driving slower than I have to.
I love the spirit of Santa Fe, southern Texas small towns,
Fresh hay, tall grasses, tallow trees, crawfish castles and
The way your hair blows in the wind like a horse's mane.
And I love holding hands with you in the pasture of my youth.
I am driving slow and feeling the residue of a friend's funeral.
Tears still have shadowed memories upon my cheeks.
I could hear the echoes of the angel's words reverberate around me.
I am blinking back the moisture.
I am thinking of you and of love.
The world is lonely sometimes.
I saw a lone snowy egret today out in the marsh.
As still as a mimosa tree,
As solitary as me in this truck on this dark highway,
And I dwell on how I stand alone, patient like the egret,
Waiting, searching the water for the continuation of life.
I yearn to fly into sunsets.
I dream of sleeping in on Sunday,
My heart next to yours,
And my life curled up beside me.
Cowboy hat pulled down low.
I hide the moisture on my cheeks.
I drive slower than I have to.
I feel as if you are sitting next to me,
And I search the dark highway for your eyes,
The air is too thick and the night is too dark.
And my soul searches for you.
I can hear you whisper to me on the wind.
Words that slip into my heart like ghosts.
Home is getting closer and the wind dries my face.
I keep driving slower and wish you were here.
My cowboy hat slips lower and I glimpse a flicker of lightning.
I can't hear the thunder only your whisper in my ear.
A whisper of forever love.
Here again the slow lonely mid night,
Coming soon the breakthrough of light.
Light and dark shall intercede,
Guiding path for what I see.
The night strikes memories,
of only what was to be.
New day bring to me the light,
shows unto me the path bright.
Night again shun the ray,
Shake the heart for suns sight.
Bring the things what once was to be,
Always making my mind to disagree.
Tell me one thing
“we watched the moonset
kissed it goodbye”
Tell me another
“Embraced the new day
With too much emotion “
Tell me some more
“I was alone when the sunset
and wondered why it went
It's the end of day, time for reflection.
How did I live it? could it be the last?
Was there gusto? Was it an exception?
Who did I touch? It went by so fast.
Shall I wake at dawn without remorse?
Will I dream great things, Inspiring scenes?
Let me start new and follow a fresh course.
Down time for me between day and dreams.
This time is so crucial, it revitalizes me.
It gives me hope, sparks imagination.
People I need, things I want to see.
Time just for me, what a sensation.
This twilight of the day, closure of hours.
Lonely, alone and sorting things out.
Thinking it over and discovering my powers.
Study War No More
What lesson can be applied?
When imperialist troops crash down upon a people's pride?
When might as right meets the instinct to survive?
When Midas greed lashes out to destroy?
We've been here before, o my brethren, o my children --
repeating the fouled lessons poured into our
pushing back the horror before our eyes with
forged into weapons by mortal foes
who hide in plain sight.
The only thing I know --
The lesson repeating agony in all our souls,
Haunted by the pleading eyes and bloody hearts
Of the slaughtered sacrifices to malignant gods --
There is something vital here to learn.
Trying to stay away
Lacking some faith
Truth pushed askew
Scrawled in voodoo lust
Doing what I can
With a scratch pad
And watered down gravy
With a touch of reality
No last supper-
Spent my trust
On a quest
For burning bush
Speaking in tongues
To put out the fire
Calling for a confession
That I don’t want to hear
The Truth Hurts
I’m getting tired of "the man" thinking that he has so much clout.
And I think its time for us as a people to become much more stout.
So the world will know exactly what we are about.
So then the races that have controlled us for ages will all begin to pout.
All the childish ass racism that even infiltrates our music that goes gold.
Never even noticing that most of these rapper’s have their own souls sold.
And they make the "dollars" and think that they are free.
To bad that they are so blind, that even the "Truth" they can’t
Don’t you see what I see, as the clock ticks at every hand?
So many don’t even realize that they are forsaking their own promise-land.
So dumb, and so ignorant, that those two words can’t even be combined.
Thinking that the words they use is the truth, because they can afford a
"nickel" or a "dime".
Too bad they’re too stupid, and themselves they can’t even control.
And too damn bad for those who don’t like the words that are coming from my
The truth hurts and I know that many people will hate it.
But I’d rather say what I got to say, then to sit back and complain about
your lame shit.
So hear it, like it, or even hate it; I don’t care what you do.
All I know, is that my words have just now suffocated you.
Because what I speak is the truth and the truth will many souls kill.
But before your time comes for you to go, I’ll make sure my words will be
the one’s to make you have, a wisdom over-spill.
So you can’t complain later in life, that you never knew the truth.
But will remember that at one time in your life, true wisdom was spoken to you
by a youth.
And then you’ll finally see, what is meant to be, will be.
And then you will have to cooperate with what will happen to thee.
And what will happen is that your mind will from the inside churn.
And it will churn forever, until its time for your soul to burn.
So learn now or die and die you definitely will.
Just remember that my words can give life to your soul, or your spirit kill.
KTEMA EIS AEI
By Axel H. Lenn
A blind man crossing dreams two centuries ago
Stumbled ‘pon my heart;
He woke me up last night,
He woke me up to wave goodbye
Why go? Whereto? I asked.
Simply no reply...
Just go! My heart can’t be that black!
He shook his head:
Just let me know what black looks like,
I’ll then explain your heart!
when you take off your expensive clothes
the curvy nose
the don'ts the do's
the shaven head
the unmade bed
the fitted jeans
and uncrowned queens
before the candles were lit
before the size fit
before you had this disease
before the disease could be eased
after the other shoe dropped
after the cherry was popped
after the bubble was burst
after both houses were cursed
and the problem was named
and the doctor was blamed
you were the only one there
when i was naked and bare
when the covers were ripped
and the wings had been clipped
when you took it away
and decided not to stay
there was nothing but a girl...
By Kasey S. Burton
There is a man
who stalks the paved streets
counting softly, calmly,
each step he takes.
One... two... three.
then an abrupt painful shriek
his voice breaking
his eyes cold.
What is behind this?
This wretched, shattered
ache of a thousand
Of horror that can not be gentled by words,
by sympathetic glances and
Do you fear what you might become?
I COULD NOT WIN A BEING ME COMPETITION.
Never to have been a poet,
would be to shine but never show it.
To have peaked in an explosion so discreet.
To be the hunter, yet labeled easy meat.
never to have been a poet.
WHEN THE DAY HAS COME AND THE SUN IS SO BRIGHT,
AND THE BREEZE IS WARM AND IT FEELS SO RIGHT,
WHEN THE BLISS OF THE SUMMER LEAVES A PEACE IN MY MIND,
AND AROUND EVERY CORNER WHO KNOWS WHAT I WILL FIND.
WHEN THE NIGHT IS SO SULTRY AND I'M WEARY TO REST,
CAUSE THE DAY WAS SO GOOD IT WAS ONE OF THE BEST,
AND MY PILLOW IT BECKONS AS A CLOUD IN MY MIND,
WHEN THE THE NIGHT TURNS TO DAY WHO KNOWS WHAT I WILL FIND.
Letter to Myself
You know me so well, as well as one can. But i don't know you at all.
When i fall asleep you're on my mind, i wonder if you recall,
those nights, those days, those endless thoughts: out of reach to the conscious
That i guard so tight in my deepest spot, for fear of their being unfurled.
Will you ever read these words with passion... off this very page when you're
Like deja vu, will you fight those tears, and swallow them with out changing
When you're so strong will you take a deep breath, and remember me at my
Will you be glad to taste that morning air with that memory you may have
Will i fuel you the way you do me, or will it all desist?
My only fear now, and my greatest is that you consciously don't exist.
What good would words do if they're not to be spoken
Even to leave one incomplete, alone or broken
Truth is the enemy to the ones who live a lie
Euphemisms create the relief to get them by
Acceptance is denial because humiliation is avoided
Ignorance is an excused answer left unexploited
The individual has become more important than society
One's power has drunken the mob with dry sobriety
Pride is the sin that blinds people of what is right
Yet don't know why we do things if only in spite
With control and order back again in our age