2009-2010
The Tango of the Unfortunate
She is standing there
The scarlet silk wraps and twirls before her eyes
An enthralling show of colors and passion
The dance of a thousand bodies
All moving to a dance
She doesn’t know the steps
Trying to join is futile
The twirling silks move too fast to watch
The dance smells of strong emotions
The perfume is intoxicating
She gasps for a breath
The colors keep swirling
She stretches her arm
Trying to touch the colors
Hoping that the intense hues will warm her
The silks are beyond her reach
But she keeps trying
Hope is all she has left
Eventually that fails too
Her arm drops to her side
A tear rolls down her cheek
A silken shape breaks away from the rest
A hand reaches out to take hers
Their fingers touch
A coldness numbs her heart
She is pulled away
She struggles against the invisible bonds
Ice cutting into her skin
Drawing her away
Her last glance at the love she missed
Absorbed into the darkness
It’s too late
~Patricia Maged
History
It’s been a long time since the old man lifted his eyes
His gaze has been shifted to the city’s demise.
His name has been stripped of a value and lore.
Despite the lives they have cost once before,
His words have been muted by the frenzy of war.
His face is a parchment of creases of time
His palms have a vision, patterned by line.
It is not he who is blind, reader, it’s you,
Unable to tell the false from the true.
The man can predict the motion of skies,
You are defenseless in History’s eyes.
~ Sasha C
2008-2009
Untitled Deux
a man in the middle of the road
makes me think….
bucket wielding firemen,
empty for donations,
swirls ’round a stop light in front of the strip mall.
makes me remember…
the second great depression,
gets a laugh from passerby,
maybe a jaunty penny -a man in the middle of the road.
red eyes slit angrily against the wind,
smooth moving Toyota,
gliding the stark white barrier -
pale even though it’s New Jersey,
unscratched even though down the
road, gas reaches $4.29 -
it’s an old road.
a child in the back,
cellphone,
electric guitar,
hand-held,
glossy -
attitude slipped under blue shinning buttons.
spoiled.
jean stain in the front seat,
undone button,
too much food,
gluttony
“the new floor we’re moving to…”
Butler, Watson, Studebaker,
all warehouse cubicles
counting on fat fingers,
where’s it all go?
a man in the middle of the road
arms spread wide -
standing.
cars pass him, honking.
a tangerine sunset
~Claire Lanini
Mania
Normality is jeopardized
Perception disappears
And the cries of all the specters
Fuel my horrors and my fears
And the demons and the shadows
All emerge from darkest night
As I cower in the corner
As they feed on all my fright
I relent-they break my will
As I lay hopeless on the floor
But although my soul is empty
All the shadows want is more
All the suffering and the chaos
Derived from hell beneath the earth
I cry out to lord Beelzebub
“Is that really what I’m worth?”
Then the fiend, that vice malevolence
In all his glorious hate
Turned a smile in the darkness
Said he only “it’s too late”
~Geoffrey G
