Poetry

Poetry

Poetry:

come see me, please – by Aryn Youngless

To Forget for the Moment – by Gabriel Johnson

A Good Mother (for my friend, Kitty) – by Mary Getlein

Grunt – by Suzanne Vidal

Oily Verbiage, a found poem from the PXP Hydraulic Fracturing Study – by Lynn Bronstein

A Haiku Concerning the Concerning Silence of an American Huriane – by TravelinMaam

Hope – by Majid Naficy

Exposed Root – by Tyler Uhlenhake

Roger Houston

Operation OXX Brigade – by Mark Breza

———————————————

come see me, please

 

come find me, please

I will be

in the grass

in the trees

in the sky

I’ll be waiting

 

waiting for the world

for a breath

for a moment

I will be

you will see

right there

 

don’t take too long, please

I’m not impatience

nor a thought of indolence

but I am here

in this spot

still

 

I fear the ivy will grow

the moss will collect

I will be covered

you won’t see me

you’ll walk past

I’ll be encased in vivacity

 

you’ll walk right by

 

come find me, please

I will be

in my car

on the street

driving by

don’t blink

 

If you blink

I may pass by

you won’t see me

smiling

laughing

contagiously

 

I will try to honk

and catch your eye

with the sun just right

and a full smile

hair blowing gently

in the breeze of the window

 

You’ll see

I’ll be living

zealously

 

but still…

come see me, please

 

Aryn Youngless

——————————————

To Forget For The Moment 

(A Little Way Further)

 

All around me

Ants and men

lay struggling

with their crushed abdomens and dreams

stuck to the concrete

though their strong lets

work frantically at first

and then less so

as futility settles in

they cannot go on

their plans are cancelled

their lives are cancelled

collateral damage

taken from the foot

of a careless giant passing by

their legs can no longer lift them

at least not on their own

should God look down

should I kneel down

to blow the ants along

a little way further

with breath like a southern wind

to give them wings before they die

like a runaway bee

free of direction

to forget for the moment

all they’ve left behind

 

– Gabriel Johnson

Herlong Federal Prison

—————————————

A Good Mother (for my friend, Kitty)

 

it makes me want to cry

when she tells me the story of visiting

her son in prison

how he has to stand in line with other

mothers and fathers

and wait

how when she finally sees him

she feels so much better

to see that he’s alright,

he’s not beaten down by the system

to see his face and hug him

once a month

and her voice softens and is warm,

talking about “her boy”

and she isn’t bitter or angry

she has this amazing acceptance of the deal

it’s been two years now

and they are appealing it

but thy have to drive 250 miles, each way

so they can stand in line and wait

for that one moment of grace

when she can see him again

hold him again

and reassure both of them that the bond

is still there

and the one person who loves him the most

is there, one more time

 

– Mary Getlein

——————————————–

Grunt

 

We’ve become the Grunts

Grateful for crumbs

From the tables

Of bought and sold

Bureaucrats

And so called

Humans.

I’m not enjoying

the movie.

What happened to

the sense of snowflakes?

It’s just in knowing

Our cherished dreams

Ever more reduced

Are straining through

Bleak forecasts.

Even sunny days

At the beachside

Don’t seem the same.

As grinning veneers

Pay senseless homage

To irreverent rascals.

It’s the numbing

Effect processing

As we lie

Asleep

And doves are crying

On this beloved planet.

 

– Suzanne Verdal

————————————–

Hi Beachhead Collective,

 

I created a poem out of tidbits from the report on effects of fracking that was solicited by PXP in order to “excuse” their fracking the earth. I did reporting on this for the Culver City Observer and  had to be objective. But for a poem I don’t have to be objective. The poem is a found poem, made from words from the

actual report. It was the report, not me, that included the words “completely wrong results,” LOL.

Lynne Bronstein

 

Oily Verbiage

a found poem from the PXP 

Hydraulic Fracturing Study

 

Sentous Surface

Moynier Surface

Rubel Surface

Rindge Surface

Sentous Surface with Faults

Moynier Surface with Faults

Rubel Surface with Faults

Rindge Surface with Faults

Vickers Surface with Faults

PICO Surface with Faults

Newport Inglewood Fault

Looking North

Discontinuous Water Bodies

Bodies and Faults

Nodular Shale

Perforating the Case

Less Viscous Flows More Readily

Commonly Known as Slurry

Conventional

High Rate

Wellbore

Cross Linking

Ceramic Beads

Pumped into the well as slurry

Flowback

Most conventional hydraulic fracturing jobs

Were completed in the Sentous

Conventional

Deepest

Study Well in the Sentous

Zone Together

When the rock develops cracks.

Gross Alpha Activity

Arsenic

Hardness

Mistaken assumptions

Complex Underground System

Completely wrong results

 

Lynn Bronstein

————————————-

A Haiku Concerning the Concerning Silence of an American Hurricane

by TravelinMaam

 

The waves were high and

The wind blew fire across Queens

What Death in Haiti?

————————————-

Hope

by Majid Naficy

 

Emily Dickinson calls “hope” a bird

Who has perched in her soul

And without asking for seeds

Sings incessantly.

 

I saw it as a cricket

Who appeared in my childhood dreams,

Grew in my adolescent poems

And disappeared in the hubbub of a revolution.

 

Today I am left alone in exile

And yet, when I go to the balcony

To water the only flower in my house,

I hear the sound of a cricket

Who is calling me

From behind my neighbor’s bamboos.

————————————-

Exposed Root 

by Tyler Uhlenhake

 

exposed root

flower or weed

decision to pull

decision to water

choose

flower wills to bloom

weed wills to stifle

flower lends you breath

weed gives yet takes

which are you

which do you think to be

which do you strive to be

I choose flower

your choice is to pull

your choice is to water

your choice

then mine

————————————

00:01 Saturday, November 3rd, 2012, Adullam ….. About November third, not much

I’ve heard. Eleventh is for veterans. A word For the third Thursday; an ill-fated bird Gets sacrificed, for giving thanks. Absurd, our rituals. Ridiculous. I’m cured Of holidays, forever. Don’t be scared. A massive table, sure to be prepared. Mountains of mashed potatoes to be fared, With vast oceans of gravy. I’m assured An invitation. Cranberries are scored, With landings of great pumpkin pies, reward For all those who show up. Not very hard, accepting such a feast, Not yet endured. Prefer my quiet roommates, crust be shared …..

Roger Houston, to Henrietta Ford and CJWhitefang, Esquire

—————————————

Operation OXX Brigade

By Mark Breza

 

Petraeus Betray US

on Veterans Day

EXPLAIN the Begazi DELAY

under the table with a dark sable

droning away in sexual play

or was it in an Afghan Stable

shown all over the internet cable

her West Point Dossier

Kyber Pass <All In> Declassifiable

DISABLE

an elephant stone not a military sycophant

encrypted in an NSA jealousy rant

DECODED

EXPLODED

In a Tabloid Display

Informed citizens want to know           Was Ambassador Stevens

Lawrence of Arabia Fey

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Categories: Poetry

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