1.
Who Are You
By Jet
***
Who are you to tell me what to do
you don't even know who I am
I can't count the number of lies that you told me
how I wish you could believe you
when you tell me that you love me
when you say that to me its just hallow words
who are you to tell me that my dreams are foolish
you know nothing about my dreams
after all you were never around
you tell me that you care
but how can you when
you are never there when I need you
who are you to say who I can or can't date
you don't get a say in my love life
with how you never showed me any love
you make hallow gestures
you tell me nothing but lies
you say I can count on you
when I try to get help from you
all that happens is you look at me like I'm a freak
you tell me to take care of it myself
who are you to try to get in my life
you were never there for me growing up
so you have no right to be in my life now
if you wanted to be in my life
you should have been part of my life since day one

2.
a cow of colorful hues
~
for kevin
~
there was that sat in a tree
a cow of colorful hues
who, perched in a birch,
issued not moos but mews
~
a dog came to investigate
& cautiously approached,
but on reaching the birch
the cow he reproached:
~
me thought a cat dwelt in this tree,
but 'tis only a bovine i do see!
& with this there came a great
CRASH!
as the cow she did fall from the
tree
~
the brightly colored cow did fall
& 'pon the dog she did;
the cow got up & uttered, strange,
a canine the shape of a lid
~
& so the bright cow did wander
& in her pink head did ponder:
such things as this are rarely
viewed
then danced away gingerly &
quietly mewed
~
kung pao yak

3.
in the dim light
i see the reflected glint
of something shying
in turns and shades
still to little to see
undefined slowing in a blue glow
an echo raps along a hall
pooling at the high ends of its sound
resonant
through these muffled corridor
attenuating inaudible
as it refracts and fades into green
vibration
something tactile floats aloft
dips away as in red reflex
nothing there
but still the hairs arisen
drifts across the skin
a second yellow feel
an electric scent in the air
something burnt or blooming
it hangs as it wisps away
across and grey it lingers still adrift
the smell of what’s on the wind
on the outskirts of scent
a pale taste in the mouth
of soot and scent
catches at the edge
of the taste of food
follows the tongue back
to the bitter taste and disappears
the floundering of the peripherals
the subtle change encountered
imaginary
only what we perceive and fail to
perhaps then a placebo
a creative whim ebbing upon our
input
an artificial white

4.
Glass poetry
Autumn harsh an omen carried
Lively growth claws out through green
grass
earth grows armor we have buried
for winter's screech and snowy brass
There above you see the meaning
and feel the vacancy of freeze
words suggest but go careening
What better use have we for these?
The higher truths the artists seek
are bound in metaphors' dark sheet
for reasons known when poets speak
the rift of mind to hand to beat
With all the meaning sensory
Mere words become illusory
PNKRK244/ RW

5.
frailty
_____________
I know my frailty
inside my skin constructed icicles
reveal my framework
and have for years created the façades
that the world recognizes as me
.
as long as I remain cold
I am strong
but I am melting inside
it scares me to be delicate
listening to the crinkly ice crack
as the warmth of a voice
penetrates the ice
.
I am afraid of the consequences
of being loved
I struggle with choices
that I am not allowed to pick
I began with pure glacial ice
ends with the salt of tears
dropping slowly
but steady
into the vastness
of life’s next journey
.
Feign

6.
By: OYamIandUO
a place to leave my stay….
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
a shining star which gleams for you
a shining star above
its light a glowing guiding torch
a shining star above
of glowing guiding lovely past
which gleams to light our way
a shining star that guides our path
a light that leads away
*
a shining star which gleams for you
a shining star afraid
its sparkle cold which draws us in
a hold we venture there
a shining star above our hearts
and peace beneath our feet
which brightens now the fallen snow
which melts our weary flesh
a shining star above our hearts
a light that gleams in wait
a secret pace to end of days
a slowing place of fate
*
a secret place at end of days
a secret place that shines
a quiet place for us to wait
the shinning star aligns
a final place to rest our fear
a pace to reach our home
a shinning shimmer in the night
for faithful feats atone
*
a secret pace which knows our heart
a shine that guides our way
a shimmer frosting midnight skies
a torch that guides our way
a shinning star that knows our thoughts
a secret place we yearn
a shining star, a sleepy pace
a final place to turn
*
and finally we rest at last
and finally we brave
a pace which slows away the days
and shades away to fade
it led us here in sleeping lace
a place we can’t betray
the weave of foot prints in snow
a tired eye we've saved
a shining star still glimmering
the snow, a shiver, warms
a shinning star above our heads
a frozen desert thorn

7.
I Am
...
I am master of my destiny
We can share the reward
I can solve the mystery
We as one move forward
I have faith in my dream
We are never uncouth
I see things to redeem
We are joined by truth
.
I am true to my soul
They say it will end
I have paid my toll
They want me to bend
I feel pain in my mind
They hint I'm a fool
I search for all time
They just sit and drool
.
I could make up excuses
For better or worse
I feel it would be useless
For I stay on my course
I will never give in
For I'm true to myself
A time to begin
I am who I am
...
EyeOfTheTiger2u7
AKA Ken
October 14 2013 ©
( All Rights Reserved )

8.
bouquet of heather & thistle
~
I gave to her a bouquet, a bouquet of heather & thistle,
& I said to her my love, this song is my epistle
(as for my guilt, I can barter no acquittal)
~
& I sang to her a song that mimicked the babbling brook,
& I gave to her myself,& her innocence I took
~
& I gave to her body lying long
a long low wolf whistle;
I played upon her milky skin
a song of quivering flesh,
so that our souls were enmeshed,
~
then I wrote for her a poem
that cracked her brittle heart stone
& I served to her a meal
of succulent meats & gristle.
~
my love, she cried a tear
out of her beautiful eye
& heaved her breast to utter
one devastating sigh:
~
many a song goes unfinished
as many a heart grows diminished;
~
when I ate the succulent meats
I was choked by the gristle,
~
when I bent to sniff the heather
I was pricked by the thistle,
~
when I read your poem
it cracked my brittle heart stone,
~
when I listened to your song,
I knew that I was home
~
Jeff Trudell
(kungpaoyak@aol.com)
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
..

9.
self portrait
`
i woke to weeping
willows
passing under a bridge
water lilies
everywhere in bloom
shades
of cerulean; cadmium, cobalt
and indigo
`
i dipped my fingertips
into the blue and watched
the colors swirl
`
i saw Monet weeping
with his easel on the shore
and watched his tears
drop
onto the canvas
in color
c.s. fox

10.
ALBERTA AUTUMN DAWNS & IN HER DAWNING
SUN TICKLED CLOUDS BLUSH
CERULEAN AZURE & ROSE BLOOM AMID
SILVER LIMNED & BLUSHING
CLOUDS MAJESTIC FLOATING, GOLD & GREEN
THE GRASSES SEEM
BURNISHED, BRIEFLY THEIR TIPS AFIRE,
YOUNG TREES NAKED VULNERABLE
STARKLY ARE SILHOUETTED, SENTINALS IN
WAITING ALONG THE SHALLOW HILLS
WHILE STATELY CONIFERS CONFER APART,
WHO WHISPER NOW
THE MORNING CAN START; GOLD & CRIMSON
SOME REMNANT LEAVES,
& HOW A REVENANT THEIR BEAUTY TEASE
WHILE A CHESTNUT MARE,
THROAT MUSCLES RIPPLE, AT THE AGED
OAKEN TROUGH TIPPLES
~
JEFF TRUDELL (KUNGPAOYAK@AOL.COM)

11.
It's not my fault i am orange
my parents are that way too
only they live in the jungle and i am stuck
in the zoo
oh no, here come the noise makers
and their parents tagging along behind
i hope they don't stay too long
i will pretend i don't mind
maybe if i act mundane
they wont go insane
i hate when they stare
you would think i don't have hair
its not my fault i am orange
they look at me as if i am strange
as if they have never seen another like me
before
but if they saw things from my
perspective
they wouldn't come here any more
`
c.s. fox

12.
Death Garden
~
The old woman stood in her garden
Of cabbage and Welsh onions...
The soil covered daily with
a frosted layer of ash;
Ash that would fall from the sky
Around the clock...
Much like the disturbing gun thunder
In the far off distance.
~
Amongst the Spindle and Edelweiss
ummingbirds hovered in hypnotic stasis
Drawing from the nectar
Deep within the flowering ovaries.
~
On the other side of a rail depot
Guard dogs barked above a deadened
stillness
nside the brick walls and barbed wire;
Saboteurs of silence.
How can life and death
Be in such close proximity?
A human freight train came
Every other day
Emptying out its unfashionable cargo.
Their remembrance of decency
Had ended long ago
As they were shoved and prodded
Like caged animals,
Their captives towards the compound.
A tower sentry looked down
From his elevated platform
Observing the proceedings.
The psychology, of course,
Was that I'm up here
And you're down there;
You're not human.
Unlike the strong wave of propagand
His fellow soldiers had adopted
He was not fully at peace with the
Graphic images...and smells
Life now served up;
His personal brainwashing
Not fully completed.
~
The eyes of the sentry and old woma
Now met
In an exchange of the truth
As if to say...
Even God seems to stay away.
From this unholy place.
~
One day the gun thunder will die dow
The ash will enrich the soil
And the trinity will appear again.
~
~ ....ian
~ 4-24-12
~ dark poetry

13.
if silence had a voice
`
what is it about the silence
we crave it during the day
on little excursions outside
or even to the restroom
just for a second of silence
`
how strange that that same silence
can wake a slumbering child
not our conversations
or the movie on tv
but the silence
`
how is it silence can sooth
and scare
at night it lurks and we lay waiting
during the day we seek it out
how can it be both
`
with infants we welcome it
with death we have no choice
`
perhaps if silence had a voice
we would know
`
c.s. fox

14.
Manifest Destiny
~
my language is surfeited by the idioms of
conquering tribes
~
squaw with papoose sighted on a bead, funny,
the way she trembles against snow is almost
human,
the smell & sheen of oil on blue barrel
is enough to give a god fearing man a hard on.
~
the white devil may smile as he takes us, my son,
& you will think me perverse that I struggle to find
joy
even now while your bright red face is open in
pain.
your cries fall flat against the snow,
but it is best we go together to the sky.
do you understand? two sharp reports echo
a moment before the air behind him is split.
shaft drives deeply right of spine, clean
between ribs, pushes diamond shaped head
out through soft belly. The cap'n said leave
tomorrow,
home to the wife & kid he thinks while he pivots &
dies.
~
Jeff Trudell (kung pao yak@aol.com)

15.
…As We Sit Here….
By: Dreadlox~
There are wars going on
In far off desolate places
…as we sit here;
Where unspeakable
Atrocities are taking place.
There are card games being played
To ease the tension of
Tomorrow’s missile strikes
And disabling road side
Landmine explosions.
~
There are friends laughing
And smoking cigarettes and
Talking of family back home;
There are maimed soldiers
Shaken and nervous…
Lying in their infirmaries
About what was lost today
Waiting to be med-evicted
And who is not going home…
To a hospital to begin months
Tomorrow.
Of rehab to learn to walk again.
~
There are fatigued medics that and there are caskets being built
That young men will lie in
Can’t get to the inflicted
And flown back “to the States”
Fast enough.
Honored and draped in an
And fallen casualties with
American flag.
Ghastly wounds and
~
Compelling stories of bravery;
And somewhere
Patiently waiting for their turn
There are stories being written
On the operating table.
For newspapers about these places
And about these heroes.
…And back home there are
Americans leafing through
Their papers to get to the NASDAQ
To see how their portfolios did today
Or checking the sports page;
More concerned about who
Won last night’s Packers game.
~
~ …….ian
~ 11-16-10

16.
Static
`
Nothing new to say
or see
same rain
same trees
same day it seems.
`
The seasons keep revolving.
Spring is way ahead of me
while I am still stuck in winter,
`
and everything
seems defiant.
The buds on the trees
blink and are leaves
the clouds are consuming
`
and the rain is relentlessly
sliding down my window pane.
Nothing new will remain,
yet everything
seems the same.
`
`
C.S. Fox