Poetry from Ryan Quinn Flanagan

Dossier

 

They probably have a dossier on you,

he told me,

they start with your high school record,

maybe earlier.

 

I told him I did not spend a lot of time at high school

so they might have a tough time.

 

They got everything, he screamed, EVERYTHING!

Everything you have ever thought, felt, done is in there.

 

Really?

I’d like to read that,

I said,

how can I get in touch

with them?

 

They get in touch with you, he warned,

and you DON’T want that.

 

That was the great thing about hanging around

paranoid personalities,

nary a dull moment.

 

Especially when he was off his meds.

 

I’ve seen tornadoes with more sense,

though most of windy Kansas would likely

disagree.


  Continue reading

Poetry from J.J. Campbell

the cure for suffering

i look in your eyes
and see jazz
three different beats
going on at the same
time
and i worry i’m just
trash trying to get
in the cool club
for a change
but
the heart is starting
to feel things it hasn’t
felt since the late
twenties
hopefully these years
have been the cure
for suffering
yet i’ll never fully
allow myself to ever
think you’d ever fall
in love with someone
like me
why would you
young, beautiful
the word still
waiting to bend
a knee
i could
but you might have
to help me back up

Continue reading

Poetry from Marc Carver

A DAY
I had sex at five this morning
I never get as much as I would like
but probably more than what I deserve.
The red rooster is always up early
it wants to eat.
As the day went on people smiled at me
and for once it felt good to be alive.
Although, there is a long way to go
a long way in a day.
DEAD
I wake up
to the disappointment
that I am still alive
anything could have happened to me
during my drunken sleep
aliens could have abducted me
bandits could have slit my throat in the wee hours
but no
here I am still
making a mockery of being alive
making life longer
consuming
letching
at young women
hoping upon hope I could eat my breakfast off it
oogling butts.
So you see just that second before I wake
I truly, truly believe I could be dead

Continue reading

Poetry from Sylvia Ofoha

Renewed…..

Involuntarily,

Hot painful tears found their way out of my eyes,

One by one they dropped,

Baring my soul and making it vulnerable,

To excruciating pain and unadulterated hurt.

 

If choices were given,

I would stand bold and bare,

Of any emotion,

But not much was given,

As tears became the only solace and release.

 

Unashamed,

They poured,

Drops upon drop,

Until they flood my heart,

And emptied my soul.

 

Tears,

Is for the weak I’m told,

But as I stand shaking and feverish under rain of my tears,

I feel stronger and impenetrable,

And whole.

Continue reading

Travel vignettes from Norman J. Olson

 

a trip to Ostend

by:  Norman J. Olson

 

I love 19th century art…  of the few artists who survived into the 20th century who interest me, James Ensor (1860-1949) is my favorite and I urge anyone who is interested in art to make the trip to the Getty Museum in Los Angeles to see Ensor’s wonderful large painting, The Entry of Christ into Brussels… 

 

Ensor lived in his parents’ house in Ostend Belgium, a small resort city on the ocean until 1917 when he inherited his uncles house nearby where he lived until his death…  I have seen the famous photo of him playing his harmonium in this house…  the harmonium is against the wall on which his very large (ap. 8×14 feet) masterpiece is hung…  so playing the harmonium, Ensor’s nose is maybe two or three  feet from the painting… 

Continue reading

Chimezie Ihekuna’s drama The Success Story – fourth installment

 

Please feel welcome to read the previous installments of The Success Story here, here, and here.

Chimezie Ihekuna

At Home…Greg’s Residence

 

It is a full house. The family—Mr and Mrs Smith, together with Andrew, Jane and Greg—are all in the living room watching a family program on TV, ‘Keeping Your Family Healthy’. a thirty-minute program on Sirius TV. Their eyes are glued to the TV until the program is over.  Mr Smith stares at Mrs Smith, who stares back. Greg, Jane and Andrew sitting together on the long sofa, the last of all furniture in the living room, are reacting differently. Greg has his hands rested on his laps, Jane tries to get the citing remote control sensor to search for other exciting programs on TV while Andrew is checking is phone he picked from his pocket—if there were missed calls. Mr and Mrs Smith, both sitting on their seats, reserved for them to sit when they are around, are excited, having the notion that Greg is reaching the end of his career…He instructs Jane to momentarily switch off the TV. Jane does it reluctantly.

Mr Smith (full of life): Greg, it’s been three days you’ve been at home with us. Since you came back, you’ve only greeted us, nothing more, and nothing less. I know there have been a lot that has happened in the just-concluded semester.

Mrs Smith (Agrees): Yes, your dad is right, Greg. You’ve not opened up to us as to how the semester all went. Are you telling me you didn’t have fun? Didn’t you experience the ups, downs, enjoy the fun and bitterness in school? There are bound to be those! So, what we’re interested in is for you to tell us. We know your academic pursuit is a certainty—Your first-class grade points are evidence. But, I chose to put it this way, ‘There are different sides to a coin’. The long and short of what I’m saying is for you to tell us your experience this semester.

Continue reading

Poetry from Mahbub

 

Mahbub

A Dubious Question

 

We are increasing, we are thinking

We are demanding more and more our services

We are fawning, we are chattering

We make more for ourselves

We take sit for survival

We hang heavy for removal

We show the path to go ahead

To free from the constipation

But not a role nor a solution

We face to the hitting back again and again

Free to move, free to speak

From the clutch of others’ aggression

But we are always to the unknown borders

For our promised destination

There a question always burns the sky

Who am I and who are you, my friend?

 

Continue reading