"Respect" Written by Johnny Blade

Respect

If you swim with the sharks then you sleep with the fishes, 
you can't be brought back no matter how many prayers and wishes. 
I speak of peace, and of civility, 
if you don't show me the same, I'll hit you with my knee. 
I'll break your arms twice, disable your liver, 
better treat me nice, I am the death bringer. 
Treat me with respect, don't look at me odd, 
I'll break your frickin neck, and make you bow before God.

Written by Johnny Blade
Posted on 03-11-13

"Spoken Glory" Written by Flor De Maria

For so long, I have known no words.. I have spoke no thoughts..

To express myself has been on the side of impossible.

Like a child first learning to walk, first learning to speak.

Scrimmaging through words, unsure of describing all I was feeling.

It hasn't been like Ol' days, When my tongue radicated speech for miles.

When imagination roared like a beast in a jungle, never failing to proceed its greatness.

Emotions were so easily expressed, easily written. Eloquence flowed like a river of poetic rhythm. 

O' how I've missed those days. 

Just as in winter when things die, when things in spring become new, I have been here reforming.

Slowly unwinding.. Awakening, perhaps. My thoughts no longer submerged. 

The fire, once again is burning and much beauty is manifesting. For my imagination is stirring.

And on my tongue lies the taste of all that was recoiled.. All that was suppressed..

An Ol' writer captivated in such passion to live again.. To speak again..

Rediscovering the art of existance.. of feeling.. Discovering myself once more.

For so long, I have known no words.. I have spoke no thoughts

To express myself slowly dissipated with every vision blurred, O' how it blurred.

But just as the evening subdued to the morning sun, my psychological inhibition subsided.

O' how It feels to once again have a voice, to speak words of lingered thinking.

O' how I've awaited for these moments of freedom.. These moments of spoken glory..

Written by Flor De Maria

Posted on 03-10-13

"-Breathless-" Written by Flor De Maria

-Breathless-

My walls came down exposing what I've been hiding 
For moments I was taunted by the ability of feeling
threatened from weakness of frailty,

Beneath this exterior of human existance,
lies a woman wanting nothing but a man,
needing his warmth and masculinity.

To close my eyes, I am that woman
sensual, passionate and yearning for closeness
straying from reality to grasp a sense of freedom,

Foolish by infatuation of chase
Becoming weary as my realization of truth grows near
withering away from desire,

As I open my eyes, I am no longer liberated
Wistfully wasting through the day awaiting sleep
Where we are once again intertwined
Where you once again leave me breathless.....

Written by Flor De Maria
Posted on 03-10-13

"Reptilian Queen" Written by Johnny Blade

Reptilian Queen

Body of the human form, viper like tongue, 
the leaves worn like a dress were torn, the melody of passion sung. 
She contorted her body slithering around, 
like the song of the siren, like floating above ground. 
A magical experience that lasted for days, 
ecstasy incarnate, a heavenly haze

Written by Johnny Blade
Posted on 03-09-13

"Ode to Susie" Written by Ray Kinserlow

Go in peace, Mom.

Ode to Susie.

There is a comet in the Western Sky;
you can see it as it flies by.
During this time of bread unleavened,
Susie wings her way to heaven.

Written by Ray Kinserlow
Posted on 03-10-13

"quickie...." Written by Greg Rogers

quickie....
by Greg Rogers on Friday, March 8, 2013 at 8:57am ·

...through lucid passions of illusive dreams filled with lust and energy of merging flesh feeding frenzy of carnal satisfaction .moaning and groaning and screaming in movement of touch and taste through feel and felt high and low sweating merging of flesh skin apon skin making heat making love making the world disappear through orgasm after orgasm after orgasm recreating each other re-affirming themselves with vows of love....

"Achievable" Written by Johnny Blade

Achievable 

I am the ancient secret, in the dark I am the light, 
I am the wind of change, I am war without the fight. 
I am the peace within your soul, I am the faith you have, 
I am the comfort, I am the right path. I am all these things, that are hard to find, 
with any though happiness it brings, to your heart, soul, and mind.

Written by Johnny Blade
Posted on 03-05-13

"Night is for sleeping." Written by John Fried

Night is for sleeping.
The welcoming bed, the comforter, crisp sheets, soft pillows for heads.
Moonlight, star light, cat smuggled at your feet.
Dreams sweet dreams, whispering softly for your attendance,
But
Behind the dreams in your head,
There’s a door, there behind the old cloths rack, open just a little,
Cracked.
Behind that door sits a funny strange little man,
Surrounded by switches, knobs, dials, and screens.
Muttering into a microphones,
Twitching in his seat.
Impatient.
Waiting.
Pushing at buttons,
Flipping off switches.
I live on the same street that God lives on.
I never knew it. 
I never realized it.
Driving home, singing to the music, thinking of everything and nothing…
There it is
At the end of the block
At the highest point of the street of course
Big, bright, tall.
I never noticed, 
I never saw,
I didn’t think it was possible,
On a normal corner, on an average block,
You wouldn’t expect it, so I made up my mind,
I’ve never said hello, good to have you next door,
I’m going to visit God, maybe have coffee, sit for a Chat,
See if by chance I can make god smile.
Showered, shaved, brushed and dressed, but not too much,
I don’t want it to look like a Sunday trip,
Just a simple visit, a nod, a wink, 
And a shake of hands goodbye,
a glad to be you neighbor,
if I can ever help, drop by. 
I walk down the block, it’s not very far,
Then I’m there.
God’s house.
God’s palace.
Gargantuan in size. 
Long tall gold fences, pearly gates open spread wide a mile high ,
From the street to the polished marble steps the gold cobble stone stretch.
The yard is fluffy clouds, edged, prefect like angels would keep.
The steps are bounded by banisters of mixed metals
Gold, bronze, silver, and brass,
Steal, platinum, iron mixed intertwined
Precious gems are everywhere that you grasp.
The porch alabaster, snow blind white, smooth as glass.
The doors, Oh the doors seem to go sky high,
Woods inlaid with woods in impossible design,
My mind whirls,
My breath sticks, 
I see how small I am,
How great this is,
And wonder why I exist.
Knees are seismic zones,
Blather minded,
Kidneys work overtime.
There on the door,
A knocker,
A diamond,
Five pounds at least,
As I’m wimping away, my hand reaches out,
The diamond goes thud,
The echo, 
echo, 
echo, 
echo, 
echo,
Time stops, Stands still, and walks in a circle around me.
I have that feeling you get when you look up and see the police car in the mirror.
The door opens, my breath slaps me down, body like jello.
My eyes blur and clear.
A man stands there,
Peter?
I fear.
He is tall and straight, perfectly coiffed, no a hair out of place
Not a wrinkle in his suit, no dust on his shoes, so perfect a shine, I can see myself!!!
All new.
All clean.
All a perfect sheen.
With no smile on his face, it’d be out of place, ruin the perfect look of complicacy, symmetry and grace.
“Yes”
That’s all, he says no more,
Just “Yes”
I look at my feet,
Shoes all dusty, pants wrinkled, old. And if my shoe weren’t glued to the porch I’d run.
Words dribble though my lips,
“I live down the block and never said hi so I thought I’d just drop by and say hello, “Is god at home, can I possibly meet him, I don’t want to interrupt, but if there’s a chance…”
The smell is vile,
Vomitus,
Corrupt.
My head snaps, I look up, Eyes so wide, I can’t miss enough.
He smiles, Oh dear god, he smiles.
Teeth sharp, Black and green, gristle hanging, gums bleed, breath crawls out.
The noise, a giggle I think,
The earthquake of my knees makes my head bob and shake.
“Wrong house…” Did I hear “wrong house…over there…”
The hand at the end of a stick called his arm, Is shriveled and stained and rotting.
I stare…
The blast from the shutting of the door tosses me to the street.
What??? Why??? I stand up and look, where had he point???
There. A house. Small. 1940’s or 1950’s.
A simple green lawn.
Cement walk up to well worn wooden steps.
Porch swing, wind chimes, plain old door.
I knock on the screen,
The door opens up,
An old man, hair out of place, cup in his hand.
He smiles,
I smile
“Come in.’ he says.
I follow, over well kept old carpet, down the hall…
The man in the room stomps the floor, slams down a switch. He leans forward and with my wife’s voice and says, “John, John time for coffee…”
Sunlight...Morning.
Night is for dreaming, 
But
Sometimes we get to learn from them in the sunlight of morning.

Written by John Fried
Posted on 03-07-13

"San Francisco Fete" Co-Authored by Michael Lewis and Thvia Shetley

San Francisco Fete

Cornices, and Gargoyles with eyes turned low,

hold fast the passing in a frozen stare

as slow vapor rising from vents below

is churned by soles into thick city air.

Undeterred, the well-heeled leather bottom

wingtips fly past sandaled sloths at crosswalks

while clicking heels kick dead leaves of autumn

and wind their way through crowded city blocks.

Just above a breezy sidewalk café,

sheer fabric wafts a low-loft window sill,

two pair of empty vamps and laces lay,

removed in shameless haste and lustful will.

Beneath the sheets, a naked feet affair,

entwined, aligned, with dreamy souls laid bare.

Written by Michael Lewis and Thvia Shetley
Posted on 03-07-13

"Thirst" Written by Johnny Blade

Thirst

Never is an easy word, when compared to always, 
a pen mightier than the sword, walking down empty hallways. 
Purgatory of the mind, can't live in the future, trying not to fall behind. 
Only I can save me, I need to have it all, a mind and soul that are free, and a strong body to stand tall. 
I'm tired of fighting for part of my dream, 
I'll give my life away to reach my goals, but they are farther than they seem. 
My body drying like it's done, seems my flesh is dying, can't find a reason to be upset, can you think of one?

Written by Johnny Blade
Posted on 03-06-13

"Cast Out" Written by Johnny Blade

Cast Out

This is your world, the land of the human race, 
into this realm I was hurled, from my home in space. 
I see the pain caused by man, it really is a shame, 
to destroy seems the plan, to go kill, and rape, and maim. 
Look down on me all you must, deny what I speak is true, 
I won't follow your ways of mistrust, the devil's breath is inside each of you.

Written by Johnny Blade
Posted on 03-06-13

"Fear" Written by Johnny Blade

Fear

Nothing you could ever do, can put the fear in me, 
I'm tortured by more powerful than you, we let you live, so our battle continues to be. 
You can cut my flesh down to the bone, you can drown me in a pool, 
you can lock me in the dark alone, no matter what, you'll be the fool. 
I've fought the truest battle, the battle that's within, 
so my soul you cannot rattle, it's protected by the skin.

Written by Johnny Blade
Posted on 03-06-13

"Falling" Written by Johnny Blade

Falling

Physically feeling better, emotionally falling down, 
I can endure any weather, but within myself I might drown. 
I can't control how I feel, just try to convince myself otherwise, 
not sure what is real, was I fooled by another disguise? 
Laying in bed is mostly when, my thoughts about you race, 
I felt happy but then, you put me in my place. 
Too naive or just too free? 
I once knew all truth, now little can I see. 
It always happens in cycles like this, it will for the rest of my days, 
the ending is not something to miss, I am the one who pays.


Written by Johnny Blade
Posted on 03-06-13

"Hollow" Written by Johnny Blade

Hollow

I feel so angry, like I just want to scream, 
nothing will soothe me but sleep, I must dive into a dream. 
Try to sleep but can't, now I feel like crying, 
just let me be happy, I'm so tired of trying. 
I feel like you don't care about me, like it's all an act, 
just tell me the truth I don't see, being lied to is not something I wish to reenact. 
I just want to lay down and die, 
nothing else seems worth it, no need to say goodbye, 
my life I wish to forfeit. I have emotions in such a wide range, 
I fake them all because I feel nothing, I guess I'm just strange.

Written by Johnny Blade
Posted on 03-05-13

"Phantoms" Written by Caleb Hendricks

Phantoms

Of all that work that you've done... with every check that you've cashed in this lifetime...
Are you lying on a bed of money?
With all of the sexual experiences that you've accumulated...
Are you still today quivering in ecstasy?
All the kicks, and bites, and scratches and punches that you've received...
Are you still reeling from the blows?
The past is a history, and the scars only fester if you choose to pick them.
Let go of the phantoms and ghosts that haunt you.
You have the power to make NOW whatever you want.. and what you do today will create the future tomorrow. Learn from the past.. don't live in it.. it gives you nothing concrete with which to work today. You only have the tools that you are givin.. make it count.

Written by Caleb Hendricks on 03-09-13

"100 PAPER ELEPHANTS" Written by Cecil Smead

100 PAPER ELEPHANTS -- c. smead

A certain memory I have from about 15 years ago.
So It must have been around '97 or so.
A few friends and I decided to trip on some acid.
... After a couple of hours at the apartment we decided
To take a drive out to some ancient river in southern New Mexico.
Just a few miles away.
The soundtrack to this crazy escapade
Was Sgt Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band.
We had the songs blaring and just "understood it so well".

We walked around the riverbank.
Tossing rocks into the water...
Changing their existence forever.
The sun blazed and the clouds couldn't care less
As clouds are known to do.
(you ever notice that?)
The air was so dry.
This was summer.

We each passing hour we sank further into this crazy dream.
I don't remember a LOT of details, but one thing I do remember
Is getting separated from the group.
A couple of hours later they found me.
Sitting with my back to a tree trunk
Next to a dead deer.
Talking to it about the Beatles

Written by Cecil Smead
Posted on 03-07-13

"Love Hurts" Written by Johnny Blade

Love Hurts

I've done everything I can for you, to make you feel like a queen, 
to prove my feelings are true, and what I say, I mean. 
I've given everything but the moon, that's beyond my power, 
it's not enough for you so soon, in blood I will shower. 
I tore my heart out, I hold it in my hand, 
I've won this bout, you no longer have command. 
Look at my heart but don't you touch, it's not for people who lie, 
I sold my soul to get away because you're too much, Satan took my pain and now we watch you die.

Written by Johnny Blade
Posted on 03-06-13

"Obliterate" Written by Johnny Blade

Obliterate

To you my words are pointless, never are they heard, 
yet I'm expected to listen, to every single word. 
You speak of things that matter not, false reasons to be angry, 
blame others for what you haven't got, blind those who can see. 
Destroy your hate, and your fear, before it's too late, 
now is the time the end is near, soon we all meet our fate.

Written by Johnny Blade
Posted on 03-06-13

"Do You Know?" Written by Johnny Blade

Do You Know?

Do you know what I'm thinking, when I keep my mouth shut? 
When I stare into forever, do you see what I envision? 
When you are around and I barely breathe, do you know my fantasy? 
Do you know I want to kill you? 
Slowly, pain taking over your mind. 
Do you know I wouldn't miss you? 
I'd be happy you had died. 
Before you treat me bad again, my feelings will finally show, 
too stupid to see my rage, you're dead and now, no one will ever know.

Written by Johnny Blade
Posted on 03-05-13

"War Torn" Written by Caleb Hendricks

War Torn

My heart is a battleground
Scorched earth scarred by years of violent altercations
Voices that surrounded me saying my dreams make me a liarTo the voices of my own that have me strafed by friendly fire
A burnt church where the altar has become a place of desecration
Gravestones marking hallowed ground

My mind is a maelstrom
The torrents of doubt that drown my shouts and deafen cries
A cyclone of insecurities leaving a flood of broken sureties
The rising tide of my own corruption and impurity
A deluge of desperation, stinging sleet that blinds my eyes
Leaving a scattered cerebellum

But my soul is a gladiator
A scarred warrior, a veteran of this life's hostilities
A violent fighter determined to persevere
Despite the weight upon my shoulders and the acid of my tears
I've built around me an armor of spiritual impenetrability
I've made myself a templar, a philosophical crusader

Written by Caleb Hendricks on 03-03-13

"Ain't it wonderful, ain't it grand!" Written Margaret Hendricks

Ain't it wonderful, ain't it grand!
We're a big,fat joke with our heads in the sand.
We say we really care, but our butts are in the air.
Someone'll come along and shoot em off of there.
We'll look up surprised with a tear in our eyes.
Ain't it wonderful, ain't it grand!

Ain't it wonderful, ain't it grand!
We're a big, fat joke with our heads in the sand.
We've been PC so long, We see nothing that is wrong.
Our world is on a slide that is on the downward side.
With troubles piled high, we just sigh and let em lie.
Ain't it wonderful, ain't it grand!

Written by Margaret Hendricks
Posted on 02-28-13

"BYE SUMMER" Written by Cecil Smead

BYE SUMMER

What did I do to lose what I've lost?
This screaming won't bring anything back
Or change fire to gold
I'll smash my face
Where the puddles break
My lies are blackened stitch
On Army Green
Ancient tumbles down city park hills
With music blasting
On my cheap portable tape player
The lyrics ripped away
By the zephyr
But, I'll always remember
The lick and scratch of that grass
Stiffened by late summer heat
And sublime depravity.

Written by Cecil Smead
Posted on 02-28-13

"written in blood...." Written by Greg Rogers

written in blood....
by Greg Rogers on Wednesday, February 27, 2013 at 2:31pm ·

....hold the blade firmly grip it tightly so it does not slip let it peirce the flesh cleanly feel the blood how warm and slick it is smell the copper tinge you have released taste it full and thick a rare wine of some degree all is nice is it not but wait my heart you have missed look the blade is plunged deeply you felt it scrape bone as you forced it hard into me the place is right a perfect hit into the center of my beating living breast but there is no heart how could you miss with such a precise strike where is it where has it gone oh where could it be oh thats right you devoured it already ripping it from me long ago eating it bloody raw as a beast in a passion storm my blood you have already tasted and tainted with your touch blackening into vile and refuse of what once was life now a rotting corpse stone in your soul your bowels kept there prisoner for all time and yet i still live your haunting nightmare of a sinful crime your walking hell on earth your living dead memory of what once was innocence now becomes death of all that is touched....

"Summer Days" Written by Jim Creston

And you will get to enjoy poems like, Summer Days.

Summer Days

Mom used to spend a lot of the day on the phone
while dad was at work.
She would hold two fingers to
her lips and mimic smoking a cigarette.
That was our cue
to get in line,
and run through the home
looking for her pack.

While she was inside,
my sister and I would sometimes go swing,
or ride big-wheels on the porch,
listening to some really bad songs.
Mom usually kept the radio tuned to the local country station.
A poor family,
with a radio-intercom
and speaker in the wall of the porch.

At age five I stood in the living room.
having a bad day,
and threw the bible to the floor.
My aunt told me I shouldn't do that.
But I knew something wasn't right about that book.
At age 18, I found god,
and he told me that he loved me.
He was the only one besides my
girlfriend
that spilled their heart.
Later I realized that Jesus could not write the alphabet,
and the reason god only freed
was to enslave.

One afternoon mom slapped
the face of our cousin
because she attempted to kidnap my sister.
At least that was mom's story.
My cousin told her mother,
and our aunt showed up at the door
saying she wanted us to return her husband's gun.
But we knew she was going to whip mom, and mom knew it too.
Mom told us not to unlock the door.
Our aunt pleaded with us to open the door
saying she just wanted the gun.
I don't remember if there was 911 back then,
but no one made any calls.
Curious about the fascination
of frogs,
I had the opportunity to see a live
museum exhibit
when I was high.
The colors ran through them
as they sat on the twigs.
Years later
I saw them
on a shower curtain
standing with their hands on their waist,
and some leaping one another.

In the low
dark Minnesota swamps
they bellow in a hurry,
and loud as a whistle on each ear,
and the deer crossed the road in front of our cars,
and the ski-jump looked like the Seattle needle,
waiting for its winter gown.

Mama
wanted cigarettes
and tea,
dishes washed,
and her Pekingese taken out for a shit.
She never took well to criticism,
and I had finger prints
on my face to prove it.
She used to threaten to pack our
clothes and put them on the porch.
I would have been warm,
for she put us is in long sleeve shirts
during the hot Carolina Julys.
We used to sweat on our neighbor's crabapple tree,
and they knew mama
was crazy.

Her dog once ate its on shit,
to avoid being beaten.

The dog and all of us were alike,
always eating it for mama.

Jim CrestonPosted on 02-24-13

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