Poetry from J.J. Campbell

Middle aged guy with a big beard standing in a bedroom
J.J. Campbell
settle in for a long ride
 
a sunny cold day
 
the day before the
first day of winter
 
the day before the
holiday blues settle
in for a long ride
 
now as i grow older
i know that ride will
get as close to death
as possible at times
 
you learn not to fear it
 
enjoy the tension
 
the pensive delight
of closing the circle
 
the only thing that
is truly guaranteed
---------------------------------------------------------
still with her mask on
 
listening to a conversation
in the waiting room while
staring at this beautiful
black woman
 
wondering what she
looks like naked
 
of course, my imagination
does that but still with her
mask on
 
you know, safety first
and all
-----------------------------------------------------
having never learned the lessons
 
the relentless agony
of the end of life
 
holding on for
a few moments
 
the last laugh
 
the last kiss
 
the last nibble
of glory
 
having never learned
the lessons of all those
wise fucks that came
before
 
the urgency of now
is fleeting
 
taking advantage of
every second is nearly
impossible in this world
 
where you are bombarded
with an endless onslaught
of shit
 
disposable,
as is everything
---------------------------------------------------------
anxiety and dread
 
just enough snow
to fill the old ladies
with anxiety and
dread
 
i'm the asshole that
wishes for enough
to make driving
an adventure
 
such is life
 
no one is ever
really happy
-------------------------------------------------------
that whiff of death
 
i remember cutting
through the woods
on this old trail
 
i remember learning
to ride a bicycle and
suddenly taking
advantage of that
freedom
 
i remember finding
this old trash bag
one day in the
woods
 
it smelled
 
my friend and i told
his father about it
 
he went over with
us to open it up
 
a dead dog
 
that whiff of death
still sits in the front
of my brain all these
years later
 
i know one thing
though
 
it made life on the
farm pretty easy
 
my nose could smell
a surprise long before
my eyes could be
shocked

J.J. Campbell (1976 – ?) is old enough to know better. He’s been widely published over the last quarter century, most recently at The Black Shamrock, Terror House Magazine, Cajun Mutt Press, Beatnik Cowboy and Horror Sleaze Trash. You can find him most days on his mildly entertaining blog, evil delights. (https://evildelights.blogspot.com)

Elizabeth Hughes’ Book Periscope

The Luminous Child by Cheryl D. Wade M.D. is a fantasy account of how the universe and earth were created. A lot of the pictures throughout the book are from the Hubble Telescope. They are absolutely breathtaking. A very enlightening book for mythology and fantasy lovers.

Order the book here.

Poetry from Diah Youlo

๐™ณ๐šŽ๐šŠ๐š› ๐š‹๐š•๐šŠ๐šŒ๐š” ๐š ๐š˜๐š–๐šŠ๐š—,
 ๐šˆ๐š˜๐šž ๐šŠ๐š›๐šŽ ๐šŠ ๐š™๐š˜๐š›๐š๐š›๐šŠ๐š’๐š ๐š˜๐š ๐šŽ๐šก๐šŒ๐šŽ๐š•๐š•๐šŽ๐š—๐šŒ๐šŽ ๐šŠ๐š—๐š ๐š๐š‘๐šŽ ๐šŽ๐šœ๐šœ๐šŽ๐š—๐šŒ๐šŽ ๐š˜๐š ๐šŒ๐š›๐šŽ๐šŠ๐š๐š’๐š˜๐š—/
๐šŠ ๐šŒ๐š˜๐š˜๐š’๐š—๐š ๐šŒ๐š‘๐š’๐š•๐š ๐šŠ๐š ๐š‹๐š’๐š›๐š๐š‘, ๐š๐š˜ ๐šŠ ๐š‹๐šŽ๐šŠ๐š–๐š’๐š—๐š ๐šŠ๐š๐š˜๐š•๐šŽ๐šœ๐šŒ๐šŽ๐š—๐š, ๐šŠ ๐š™๐šŽ๐š›๐š–๐šŽ๐šŠ๐š‹๐š•๐šŽ ๐š๐šŽ๐šŽ๐š—๐šŠ๐š๐šŽ๐š› ๐šŠ๐š—๐š ๐šŠ ๐š–๐š˜๐š๐š‘๐šŽ๐š› ๐š๐š˜ ๐š๐š‘๐šŽ ๐š ๐š˜๐š›๐š•๐š/

๐™ฑ๐š•๐šŠ๐šŒ๐š” ๐š ๐š˜๐š–๐šŠ๐š—,
๐š‹๐š’๐š›๐š๐š‘๐šŽ๐š ๐š๐š›๐š˜๐š– ๐šœ๐šž๐š—-๐šœ๐š๐š›๐šž๐šŒ๐š” ๐š๐š’๐š‹๐šŽ๐š›๐šœ ๐šŠ๐š—๐š ๐š–๐š˜๐šž๐š•๐š๐šŽ๐š ๐š’๐š—๐š๐š˜ ๐šŒ๐š˜๐š–๐š™๐šŠ๐šœ๐šœ๐š’๐š˜๐š—, ๐šข๐š˜๐šž ๐šŠ๐š›๐šŽ ๐š๐š‘๐šŽ  ๐š™๐š’๐š•๐š•๐šŠ๐š› ๐š˜๐š  ๐™ฐ๐š๐š›๐š’๐šŒ๐šŠ/
๐š‹๐šข ๐šข๐š˜๐šž๐š› ๐šŸ๐š˜๐š’๐šŒ๐šŽ,  ๐šŸ๐š’๐š˜๐š•๐šŽ๐š—๐š ๐šœ๐š๐š˜๐š›๐š–๐šœ ๐šŠ๐š›๐šŽ ๐šš๐šž๐š’๐šŽ๐š/

๐š‹๐š•๐šŠ๐šŒ๐š” ๐š ๐š˜๐š–๐šŠ๐š—,
๐š–๐šŠ๐š๐šŽ ๐š๐š˜ ๐šŒ๐šŠ๐š›๐š›๐šข ๐š๐š‘๐šŽ ๐š‹๐šž๐š›๐š๐šŽ๐š—๐šœ ๐š˜๐š ๐šœ๐š˜๐šŒ๐š’๐šŽ๐š๐šข, ๐šข๐š˜๐šž ๐šŠ๐š›๐šŽ ๐š๐š‘๐šŽ ๐š๐šŠ๐šŒ๐šŽ ๐š˜๐š ๐š–๐š˜๐š๐š‘๐šŽ๐š›๐š‘๐š˜๐š˜๐š ๐šŠ๐š—๐š ๐š๐š‘๐šŽ ๐šœ๐šข๐š–๐š‹๐š˜๐š• ๐š˜๐š ๐šœ๐š๐š›๐šŽ๐š—๐š๐š๐š‘/
๐šŠ ๐š๐šŽ๐š—๐š๐š•๐šŽ ๐š๐š•๐š˜๐š ๐šŽ๐š› ๐š๐š›๐šž๐š’๐š๐š’๐š—๐š ๐šŒ๐š˜๐šž๐š›๐šŠ๐š๐šŽ!

๐š๐šŽ๐šŠ๐š› ๐š‹๐š•๐šŠ๐šŒ๐š” ๐š ๐š˜๐š–๐šŠ๐š—,
๐šข๐š˜๐šž ๐šŠ๐š›๐šŽ ๐šŠ ๐š a๐š›๐š›๐š’๐š˜๐š›'๐šœ ๐š ๐š’๐šœ๐š‘, 
๐šŠ ๐šœ๐š˜๐š—๐š ๐š๐š˜๐š› ๐š‹๐š›๐š˜๐š”๐šŽ๐š— ๐šœ๐š˜๐šž๐š•๐šœ ๐šŠ๐š—๐š ๐š‹๐šŽ๐šŠ๐š๐šŽ๐š— ๐š‹๐š˜๐š๐š’๐šŽ๐šœ, ๐šŠ๐š— ๐šŠ๐š›๐š›๐šŠ๐šข ๐š˜๐š ๐š๐šŽ๐š•๐š’๐š๐š‘๐š,
๐šข๐š˜๐šž ๐š›๐šŽ๐š–๐šŠ๐š’๐š— ๐š๐š‘๐šŽ ๐šŒ๐šŠ๐š—๐š˜๐š™๐šข ๐š˜๐š ๐š™๐š˜๐š ๐šŽ๐š›/

๐™ฑ๐š•๐šŠ๐šŒ๐š” ๐š ๐š˜๐š–๐šŠ๐š—,
๐š ๐šŠ๐š”๐šŽ ๐šž๐š™, ๐š›๐š’๐šœ๐šŽ ๐šž๐š™, 
๐š๐šž๐š’๐š๐š’๐š—๐š ๐š๐š‘๐šŽ ๐šŠ๐š๐šŠ๐š๐šŽ ๐š˜๐š ๐šข๐šŽ๐šœ๐š๐šŽ๐š›๐š๐šŠ๐šข, ๐šข๐š˜๐šž ๐šŠ๐š›๐šŽ ๐š๐š‘๐šŽ ๐š๐š›๐šŽ๐šŠ๐šœ๐šž๐š›๐šŽ ๐š‘๐š’๐š๐š๐šŽ๐š— ๐š‹๐šข ๐š‘๐šŠ๐š๐šŽ, 
๐šข๐š˜๐šž ๐šœ๐š’๐š ๐š‘๐š’๐š๐š‘ ๐š˜๐š— ๐š๐š‘๐š›๐š˜๐š—๐šŽ๐šœ ๐šŠ๐š—๐š ๐š‹๐šŽ๐š๐š๐šŽ๐š› ๐š๐š‘๐šŽ ๐š•๐š’๐šŸ๐šŽ๐šœ ๐š˜๐š ๐šข๐š˜๐šž๐š๐š‘/
๐š‹๐š•๐šŠ๐šŒ๐š” ๐š ๐š˜๐š–๐šŠ๐š—!

ยฉยฎ ๐˜ฝ๐™ง๐™–๐™ž๐™ฃ๐™จ ๐˜ฟ๐™ž๐™–๐™ ๐™”๐™ค๐™ช๐™ก๐™ค 2022

Poetry from John Edward Culp

Today's Breakfast 
-------------------------------------------


Today's Breakfast 
               is yesterday's lunch 

And Dinner was
             "Keep the coffee Hot!"

        I'm alone in the night 

Until I close my Eyes 

Until the lure of Love 
        & my Hands touch 
                the sky 
 to adjust the stars a nudge

Everything I do Happens next
     & I'm happy to the moment.

I lift my New Memories
 of the freshly Brewed pleasure

 Abandon my past
    this savory moment

  Kiss time 
         and Let go

Poetry from Arsi Rauf

Almighty
Written by Arsi Rauf

Almighty, Almighty, Almighty
All praises for Thee,
Who did search,
In high mountains,
And boundless sea,
He got Thee.
In each star dwells
A newer world,
Sun and the moon
Show your majesty
Often, when I look around
Though can't be seen
Everytime very close You are found
That you hear a tiniest whispered sound
So
Whenever I did search I got Thee
O! Almighty.

Poetry from Michael Robinson

Middle aged Black man facing the camera with his face resting on his hand
Michael Robinson
Faith Saves

My soul sought to find God.
Salvation was in God's hands.
Deliverance was Godโ€™s wishes.
Sitting in the chapel praying.

A heart full of grief praying.
Loneliness turned into tears.
Praying for heaven to come
Seeking peace in my life.

Always seeking to belong.
In moments of despair tears came,
Praying for heaven to come to me.
Always praying for heaven to come.

Soar with Me

Heaven is a place with my heart.
A renewed awareness of each beat.
Listening to the sounds of light.
Soar with me to a place of beauty.

Leaving a trail of stars to heaven.
Follow each star as it lights the sky.
Soar with each breath you take.
Behold each star as your own.

Touch Heaven in your dreams.

Night Stars

Night stars glow in the skies of Vermont.
Stars upon stars as the moon watches me.
Light my path home to heaven to God.
A shooting star leaves a trail to heaven.

Harmony to a place where love exists.
A soul finding Jesus among the stars.
A life of hardship and despair forgotten.
It was grace that saved me from the pain.

A night that my soul was full of light.

Essays from Doug Jacquier

Seoul. I am meeting with a potential South Korean supplier. We are in an old part of the city in a building which is part office and part museum. We have all removed our shoes. While we talk, we partake of seemingly endless cups of tea prepared and drunk in the traditional manner. Some of these teas have been preserved for decades and are discussed with all the seriousness of vintage wines in our culture.

It is mutually understood that no decisions will be made today or even at any time in the near future, as is the norm in most Asian cultures. Eventually it comes time to leave and I sit on what I perceive to be a solid looking stool to put my shoes back on. Something indefinable shifts in the mood, although the smiles remain.

Walking down the laneway leading away from the building, I take our translator discreetly aside and test whether I have sensed the mood correctly. He politely informs me that the โ€˜stoolโ€™ I sat on is a 400-year-old ceremonial tea table and only its superior craftsmanship has averted disaster for all concerned.



Shanghai. My flight to Hong Kong is delayed considerably. (I discover later that this has occurred because the Chinese Air Force has suddenly closed the airspace for an exercise and that it is not uncommon.) Finally a boarding call is given to a gate downstairs from the busy main departure area, empty of all but my fellow passengers and the airline staff. 

A Chinese family is at the departure desk yelling at the staff and refusing to be placated.

A bus arrives to ferry passengers out to wherever our plane is parked. The family rushes towards the long line that has already formed at the check-in door. The bus is soon full and the family will have to wait for the next bus. 

At this point a young man from the family becomes hysterical and attacks a male staff member, pulling his hair and slamming his head against a glass partition. Other passengers finally intervene and I look around for a security guard. Oddly, for any international airport and especially for China, there are none. When a second bus arrives, all of the family are allowed to board.


When I board the plane, I find myself seated across the aisle from the angry young man. I stow my gear and make my way back up the aisle to a steward. I describe briefly what has occurred on the ground and ask why the man has been allowed to board after assaulting one of their staff. She shrugs and her face says โ€˜itโ€™s no big dealโ€™. I return to my seat and the man glares at me for the whole flight.



Mumbai. We are returning from a delightful restaurant lunch, driven by an Indian colleague, in her own car. Our animated conversation is interrupted by a policeman at the side of the roadway motioning her to pull over. She is informed that she has exceeded the speed limit and she should step out of the car to show her licence.


Mumbai traffic is such that exceeding the speed limit is about as likely as the sighting of a unicorn. However she steps out of the car, taking her purse, and plays the game. After returning to the car she advises that she has paid the requisite bribe and the matter will be forgotten. She says normally she would challenge such behaviour but we are already late for our next appointment.