It’s a twenty/twenty world of plenty
so what you moaning for?
you’re getting everything you’d ever want
and who could ask for more?
my vision grows quite dim and any chance there
ever was, of me getting some of anything
is growing awfully slim.
In a twenty/twenty when there’s plenty
some get more than their fair share
I get none
but I don’t care.
You’ll find me at the bring and buy
where I buy some,bring some
find some,win some
but in a twenty/twenty of lots of plenty where life tramples me and I feel empty
I go gently
into the night.
copyright © John Smallshaw all rights reserved
(out of print)
Ben Cusden 2012
If only there were books.
We could look through the pages
of the posterity of life.
If only there were pages.
The typeface setting the tone
Realigning the text – left or right
And saving the
All designed – laid out.
Lay out. Layed out.
Checking the script. The content.
All smart [unanimously (un) abridged].
If only there were books.
We could learn uniformly.
Tie the lies of lives
and believe what we read
(believe what we read).
(but we all know)
(or we burn books)
[(but then we are lost). Or not].
If only tears were pages.
What a book I would write.
©Benjamin Gestaltung Cusden all rights reserved
In my spaceman’s silver suit I walked fast,
Thrilled through azaleas hung over the path,
Sat in the waiting room for many years.
Often the nun slid the wooden square slow,
So I raised in my chair, bent to the grill,
To see an eye that said she could not come.
Sometimes I opened the door to see snow
Or imagined scenes where the summer lawn
Held us in its frame like a cat’s swung cage
When taken to a new life, to mouse hard,
Sleep going on when the wooden square slides,
When punished feet walk red on white gravel.
There was a bear, gathered lilies that squeaked,
Cut with a claw he then held to his eye.
© Steve Walker all rights reserved
I kept things neat and tidy
To keep me warm and safe
I felt it was my duty
To keep things in their place
Heart and soul erased
Nothing went to waste
Good and righteous kneeling
Innocent and chaste
A system so appealing
I had to have my feelings traced
Written by © Raven Drake all rights reserved
I saw the dealing of the cards,the ace of clubs,the diamonds,spades
but I have made my pact in hearts
the one that breaks and heals and seals upon another deal,
took me, through a left hand turn
shared with me
a love that burned my tongue and fingers,how the taste of you still lingers on the deck,on the table and on the floor where we dealt more than cards upon our suits of nakedness.
Then later clothed lest we upset the kings and queens we laughed,as if they’d never seen before,two lovers on the table,floor
and I adored you more and more than any game I’d ever played,
If I could save this hand I hold
If only I had told you how I felt
I had knelt just one more time to taste the wine that flowed from precious lips.
I could carry on,
but the point is that you’re gone
so there is no point
I no longer care
©John Smallshaw all rights reserved
The People Weep
I feel alone like the world walked away
As I fall to my knees and beg you to stay
Darkness is closing in as the world fades to grey
And a voice whispers
Run for the light and your going to break free
Swing from a star and let what’s going to be, be
Reach for my hand and I pull you to me
And my soul blisters
I’m stuck in the hell that you left me in
Surrounded by hate and sorrow and sin
Begging the world just to be my friend
And my heart breaks
So I ran for the light and reached out for your hand
I know in this world we must all take a stand
Live for the love and stop making demands
And the world quakes
Stubbornness is not the best suit I can play
I took your hand now ask me to stay
Promise me your never going to go away
And the people weep
We are together in the warmth of the light
I knew you would come make everything alright
Now pull me close and hold me tight
And we drift to sleep
Written by…Holly Lucas all rights reeserved
This poem is dedicated to Samira. Thank you our dear Samira for all your hard work to keep “Poets & Artists For A Different World” alive.
“SAMIRA BAGHDADY” (An Acrostic tribute to Samira)
Scent of love is her soul’s fragrance
And her heart: an abode for peace
Mind from heaven dwells in her thoughts
Inner self of her: sacred bliss
Red roses bloom inside her heart
And soft breeze stays with her kindness
Beauty smiles on her lovely face
Always like a child’s happy grace
Golden verses love to embrace
Her warm words: borrowed from her pain
Days of sorrows she hides with care
As her great spirit pours like rain
Devoted to the world we dare
Yesterday, today –she’s always there!
Written : 15th August
Munia Khan ©2013
One more slice of rain
another knife cuts me again
and I am soaked through to the skin
please open up and let me in.
Let me get dry,
and I’ll get by
If you let me in.
©John Smallshow all rights reserved
It is as if..
all the thoughts that plagued me
have lifted–into sheer air
and my being dances freely
barely touching the earth
with a grounded responsibility
to be centered on the moment
without being pulled down
into the abyss of those
who complain about the world;
i raise myself on old time religion
spelled..L O V E…. !