Arte Soy

My soul longs for old earth
no roads
machines
senseless noise

Just the wings of birds cutting through the air
The sound of sunlight as it rains through the leaves

The heartbeat of the planet as it throbs and moves and becomes

all

Rain falling and pooling and running down the rocks and washes, dancing on the leaves,
soaking ever so gently into the soil

That we silly humans, so bent on destruction

could

Turn our hands to healing
touching
loving our earth

(Sara Melnicoff contributed this.)

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SUDDEN POEM, APRIL 2010
STANLEY GEMMELL

“Before I praise the dead I should like to point out by what
principles of action we rose to power…” THUCYDIDES * Funeral Speech

To the claim of excellence
And a privileged place in the earth
We are of one mind
Seduced and thrown
By the voice of a woman

Of the slain hosts of men
Who before our hour
Had come to pass like
Red rain into the moss
And gave form to loss

Or of lightning brief and white
Whose thoughts are molten
And jagged to form links
With perfect things
Sought to destroy

Itself a fable
The quickening friendship
Between the sky and the earth
Surely a glance was enough
To retain immortal

The names between us holy
As how men may survive
Seasons as infidel
To themselves
Wrathful and traitorous

For one’s self is also a nation
Thus in love are joined two lands
The body of woman
The body of man
Their mouths slurred in bliss

For to starry heaven
Vast and eternal
Wings and silences
To scarlet lashes
Answers thunder

Fallen lightly as curious footsteps
Making their way past the vaults
Containing their own creations
And listening this became music
Itself the dance for alternates

Fragrant smokes were risen
Feasts filling with spiced loins
Eyes grown long with tears to cover
The shapes of beautiful girls
With parted lips

Tigers crowding the
Commanders’ countenance
Which ultimately became
The drums which are also
The shining sun

To the blind and venerated
Hopes of those shown strange
Favor from the sweet queen
Of paradise
So much favor given

_____
_____

Stanley Gemmell, poet
http://poetmage.tumblr.com
http://angelfire.com/il/surlsone

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Melvin Bravo live at Nikki’s birthday jam

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Get Low

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I stood at your grave,
with fists full of change,
change in the form of words,
words I couldn’t previously say,
due to tides of time,
ebbing and flowing in the form of
change, change in the form of words,
words I collect in a felt hat, as
I busk for saplings of change,
change in the form of words,
words written in ink, exchanged
between changing strangers,
in the rain, on the bus, in the
train station, as people change
hats and faces and trains,
trains in the form of thought,
thoughts I collect in a cup,
a cup I keep above my bed
with a straw, a straw in the form
of a speaker, a speaker moving
voices, holding song, above my bed,
talking about
change.

(Sarah Martin contributed this.)

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2:58 am: My feet are almost as calloused as your hands always were. These hands are virginal apparati with a texture similar to that of honey or warmed dough. Virtually unmarred and scrape-free. Clearly, they do not make nearly enough.

3:02 am: My head is buried in my pillow now and I’m thinking this can’t be healthy- being reminded of your life by the faintest sound of music that you never even got the chance to hear. I’m wondering if I’m sick for never wanting to forget; for fearing Alzheimer’s at age seventy more than Death at age thirty, for wishing for any physiological malfunction over amnesia. I’d like to always be able to recall the inflection of your voice when you would ask what it was I had learned in school that day. At twelve, it posed as a hideous question. But at twenty, not so much.

“What did you learn in school today?”   Now, that’s a poem.

(Sarah Martin contributed this.)

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Heal us, Lord, make us whole
Shine your light on the dark of our soul
Let us see with new eyes and hear with new ears
Let us taste, touch and smell you in the joy of our tears

And when the sky grows cloudy and gray
Send your angels here to guide us on our way

Bless us, Lord, grant us grace
Walk with us in your holy place
Let us smile with love and laugh with glee
Let us dance and play, wild and free

And when our minds grow cloudy and gray
Send your angels here to guide us on our way

Give us courage, strength and will
For the purpose for which we are here to fulfill
Let our lives be a song born of music and art
And let us sing it aloud and straight from the heart

And when the world grows cloudy and gray
Send your angels here to guide us on our way

© Joshua Mapp Weiss 2009

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If there ain’t no answer then maybe there’s a question
Why I wind up with a certain indigestion
Was there something you forgot to mention
About your true intention?

Well I am another you so I myself know what is true
There’s only one thing left to do, let me be me and you be you
And pray we find a way for us both to get through
And turn these gray skies to blue

All the names and all of the faces
All the minor fall from graces
And the major, shyness toward a stranger
Was there really a danger?

All the games in all of the places
All the cards that weren’t aces
Or that were, and I didn’t wager
I was trying to cage her

From the ashes the phoenix rises
Out of the muck the lotus springs
From the peeled back disguises
Out of bondage freedom rings

And I sing, and I sing, and I sing…

© Joshua Mapp Weiss 2010

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bite me,
let me bleed
golden yellow, liquid sunlight.
sweet, sticky nectar.
seductive sweetness.
chew my yellow, red, saffron, orange,
rings of saturn, blushing skin.
feel my juice cloying to your fingers
like wild logwood honey.
savor me, ambrosia,
for the gods came to earth
not to make fire,
but to taste my divine florescence.
ravish me in my liberated ripeness,
succulent feast for the palate.
slurp me with ecstatic delight,
swallow my fountains of joy,
drink in my smooth summer richness.
squish me without mercy,
squirt my flowing
fruitiness all over your face.
let me drip down your arms
to your elbows,
then lick my every molecule.
let me drip down your chin
to your chest, to your belly button.
indulge me,
for it was me, not the apple, that
tempted adam.
suck my seed,
extract the last drop of milk
from the stars.
nourish your body,
satisfy your heart and soul
as only me, jamaican mango, can.

(Ian Mair contributed this.)

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