—————————————————————-

the summer rain

languishing in

the summer rain

a beautiful woman

has lost the ability

to care

two cervezas

por favor

the kind of night

where you’ll find

out if god actually

exists or the devil

is all you have left

and as usual, given

the music playing

here and the look

in her eye

the devil is winning

yet again

——————————————————–

in those pants

he looked like the kind of

asshole that always takes

the stairs

she, like it seems all nurses,

has an amazing ass in those

pants

i was across the room watching

chuckling that this was most

of the movies i watched in

my 20’s

he started to chat with her

and she gave him a look

that i have seen from most

women in my life

that go fuck yourself look

that only a fool thinks means

something else

this fool started to follow

her

i was hoping she had her

keys in her hand and ready

for the throat

not that i ever got handsy

but i know the move

she didn’t, but the asshole

didn’t realize the husband

was at work today

popcorn is ready

——————————————————-

things to do

blistering heat

ac running day

and night

too hot to think

or do much else

the neighbors put

up screens around

their hot tub

makes it easier to

film i suppose

but of course

someone will mow

their grass for the

second time this

week

i’m not sure what

the need is

it hasn’t rained for

almost two weeks

my mother tells me

it is what happens

with old men that

run out of things

to do

i laugh

tell her i should

send over some

rope and a step

by step guide to

what the neighbor

next door did so

successfully

—————————————————–

somewhere else

summertime at a medical

facility

watching single mothers

drag along four or five

kids that always want to

be somewhere else

my own mother doing her

physical therapy while i’m

out in the lobby scribbling

in a notebook like some

madman that needs to get

this down before planting

the bomb

it never gets to that point

although twenty some

years ago i had all the

motivation a younger

psychopath would need

now, apathy has run its

course and i’m simply

waiting for death

bound to get here

before too long

————————————————

on the back porch

fireworks until three

in the morning

good thing i hardly

sleep anymore

found a stray cat

sleeping on the

back porch

got close enough

to make sure it

wasn’t dead

of course, just like

an asshole would

it didn’t appreciate

the concern

one of these days

i’ll make it out of

this town

probably against

my will

and probably by

the use of force

there is always

the chance

i’ll die first

yet another one

of those dreams

that will never

come true

J.J. Campbell (1976 – ?) is trapped in suburbia, plotting his escape. He’s been widely published over the last 30 years or so, most recently at Drinkers Only, Mad Swirl, The Rye Whiskey Review, The Beatnik Cowboy and Yellow Mama. His latest book, to live your dreams, published by Whiskey City Press, is available at Amazon by going here: https://a.co/d/0huILRpq

https://evildelights.blogspot.com

https://goodreads.com/jjthepoet

Eventually

On my knees under the thunder

unafraid

lightning light

making me blink

a thousand thoughts

this war of man

greed and power

killing and maiming the innocent

crying for help

eventually

very soon

man will bow down

knees bleeding and pleading

for the end

and a new beginning

of Forever Peace.

Memories

by Mahesh Paudyal

I never knew

Memories could be so torturous!

They come

Ripping through the curtains of cold, desolate nights

Squeeze in, right up to the heart

Shake me up time and again

Show a ghastly carmagnole of wounds

And still say,

“The night is yet to pass.”

Paudyal is a Nepali poet who writes in Nepali and English. Sunya Praharko Sakshi and Notes of Silent Times are his published works of poetry. He teaches at the Central Department of English, Tribhuvan University. He is also a noted critic and translator.

Maternal leanings and acquaintances in a way instills a sense of importance and value on a person. Paternity gives one an identity regardless of anything, your father’s name covers you. Foundations have over the centuries of civilization proven to be an addition to success and societal value to a person. Their name instills a sense of pride and sometimes even shame and disgrace on the lineage and their identity as a person. When a person is valued and loved, it is always evident in their demeanor and outlook. A mother’s love is always unconditional hence the Nigerian pidgin parlance “monkey no fine, but him mama like em”. Mother’s tend to love their children regardless of whatever, the very connection of umbilical cord outweighs any other yardstick the society might place on individuals with regards to success and failure. Sometimes, female children suffer a deprivation if that feminine presence is not present in their life and this causes them to exhibit strange behaviors which are most times seen as anomalies. Research has shown that a daughter’s intelligence is the direct replica of the mother, she contributes almost all percentage in terms of brain power as well as emotional intelligence so that her status in the society places a shade on not just the daughter, but also on the whole family. 

The experience that comes with interacting with people have taught me a lot of things concerning daughters and the aura they exhibit in their environment . Teens and early adults are the perfect examples, at that stage, one’s hormones are raging, some direct it into something productive while some outrightly exhibit stubbornness and hard headedness. Intelligent mothers are a fortification of some sort, an umbrella to protect and cover. It is often said that if your mother loves you, then by extension the world loves you and anything that is otherwise to that love could provoke a negative image on the son or daughter. The complexities of human nature is somewhat unexplainable, but as mammals , the nature of our specie have caused us to be protective and guard our offspring. Sometimes, mother’s might loose every sense of sanity and their emotions might become overwhelming because of an offspring, this is applicable to animals as well. 

Let’s discuss how an unintelligent mother, not in the sense of formal education, but in the sense of maternal deprivation, an absence of a feminine figure can affect the life of an offspring: 

Offsprings are often connected to their mother, it is deeply believed that the umbilical cord connects the offspring and it’s mother in ways that nature never would, if the mother doesn’t eat, the offspring doesn’t eat as well, so it’s dependence rests on its mother. When the offspring is finally disconnected from it’s mother (birth), it’s connection with the mother become the very fabric of existence so that it is always drawn to its carrier. The absence of that carrier in their life after the disconnection could spark a sort of rebellion.

Conclusion 

Intelligent mothers complement their offspring in almost in an impeccable way, a professor who sees beyond just the offspring but also its potential tend to improve its life span and thereby reduce its mortality rate. It is in the hands of the carrier to improve its offspring. 

The Morning Knows Me by My Eyes

Whenever longing spurs dawn’s steps,

Night mirrors my sorrow—

A window and a moon,

As I scatter the ages of my face—

Seasons of waiting

Between the shores of questions and the sea of wonder. 

My heart ebbs like an hourglass,

No map traversing the branches of ancients,

Nor a melody attending the seasons—

Until you rose twice upon me:

Once in the lineage of my dreams,

And again in the secret of my kohl,

Until my life became a hymn to itself. 

To write of you,

I must ask the flamenco to lend me a dance,

One that erases all the wars of absence.

I must borrow my dress from the paper butterflies,

And between rain and music, inscribe the exile of my soul. 

The thrill of magic whispers my name;

Roses wash in my breath.

You are the heritage of love and poetry,

Every time they stone the windows of the future,

And you are the covenant of sparrows.

I break the sea’s siege,

And improvise the sky. 

My moments, silver anklets,

wrap around the legs of longing,

awaiting a promise.

And my fragrance, a forgotten winter on your coat,

awaits an embrace. 

And beauty asks me,

How did it defy the claims of withering?

and rebel against time’s decrees? 

I answer:

My beauty arranges itself upon your gaze.

My beauty is the path that plucked your name to join with mine.

Since they laid claim to the eyes of wagers,

my memory of triumph has faded,

But the horses of your love refuse to depart,

They never tire of my leaps or my start,

Nor do they weary of my eager neigh.

Reema Hamza is a Syrian poet.

Artist Website:  https://linktr.ee/cri8or

Dancing Peacocks

Dancing peacocks

colour in disarray

disheveled feathers

stare at the eye

I want to venture

into this electrifying dance

and it’s rapturous languor

won’t you tell me the secret

of this earthly dance 

your ruffled feathers?

dancing peacocks 

I want to fade into oblivion 

like your dance 

and the way you enliven

the music in and around

dancing peacocks

dance the way you want

I can’t build skyscrapers around you

only your body shall tell

how you dance in languorous ways

to

kill 

my 

stupefaction

And in these hills the peacocks dance

And in these hills the peacocks prance

All in the midst of oblivion

The peacocks the peacocks 

Cover mists in my eyes

Ananya S Guha