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Not a People Person – A Poem by G. S. Katz

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There I’ve said it
People like me, not so sure I can say the same
as a whole that is
there are exceptions of people I like
I suck at mingling
going from person to person
chit chat
I do it and each time I marvel
at my inability to do it well
Give me old fashioned one on one
Give me content and substance
Put me in a group and there’s a good chance I’ll drink to much
Or slip out the door quietly after showing my face
I wish it were different
But I can’t say it’s gonna change
Maybe I’ll be a dog in the next life
Where looking cute, sleeping and sniffing butts will be my only
requirements.

The Argument | Roy Pullam

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His lips barely moved
His voice rolled
Through heavy syrup
The thick accent
Bound him
To his southern heritage
Such hate
Fell from his lips
A series of stereotypes
Values I could not endorse
I was uncomfortable
Rejecting his opinions
From deep
In the well
Of my consciousness
I tried to keep quiet
To mark his ignorance
With the resolve
To remain mute
To let others speak
To the infamy
Of his words
But no response
The quiet
Scalding me
Questioning my own betrayal
Of my deep-seated beliefs
A sickening ball
Of frustration
Formed in my stomach
I felt my muteness
Untangling
As the belly knot
Grew tighter
I was speaking now
Challenging him
My body
Shaking with rage
I could not control
The eruption
The lava of rebuke
pouring out of my mouth
Scalding his stupidity
Words I tried
To hold back
Words that
Leave a distance
I cannot walk back
We dangle
In the air
Of disagreement
The ground beneath
Us gone
Any commonality
Crashed and burned
In the car wreck
That was our friendship

Father Coffman – A Poem by Roy Pullam

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I was a hitchhiker
Depending on the free ride
To get my education
In a home
Where need
Smothered hope
You become my sponsor
My twelve step program
To break the habit
Of poverty
You, yourself
Recovering from a childhood
Of want
And you were always
With me
Hearing my confessions
Bolstering my confidence
Appreciating the uphill climb
I faced
And I learned
Becoming a sponsor myself
Passing on lessons
My voice
Strengthened
By your example

Madness – A Poem by Nitya Muralidharan

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Enclosed amidst four walls we dream of mountains
Of running alongside sea lines, sleeping under the clouds
And we run far away far from this chaos and crowd
To clear blue seas and skies, beyond petty things
Beyond hatred and bitterness to love and happiness
And to choose sadness, the kind that makes us want to write and sing
Beyond a world that is obsessed with sanity
Because we all are mad, that’s what keeps us alive
Madness that lets us see mountains beyond walls
Madness that lets us reach out beyond the walls
Beyond reason and logic, to that land where we try to reach
Through liquid and smoke, where our worries are taken away
And blissful happiness surrounds
Where the cloak of adulthood is taken away
And Childhood descends with a twinkle in its eye

Pale Rodents – A Poem by Richard William Kirkpatrick-Thorne

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Some Pale Rodents Pick A Color And A Finger,
A Prayer To Mary Queen Of Cottage Cheese,
And Then… They Are Off…!
…
Takeing The Inner Lane,
Passing… Rumbleing Snorting… Digging InTo The Tread,
Chaseing The Outer Line That Fades The Mane,
Magnetized InTo A Tribal Jungle Beat Of HorseShoe Gymnasiums,
Never Late For The Last Bend Of The Zipper-Bunny’s Tease,
For The Cotton-Tail And Podium Morrow…
…
One More Dive InTo The Dish,
Shallow And On A ReBreather,
The Honking Of Cab-Drivers And Finite Math,
Minuscule Metropolis With Robots For HouseWives,
Water Runs Off Their Chins In Tiny Droplets To Rain Purity UpOn Poorer
Districts,
Tilting Heads In The Canine Empire…
…
Wolves Had Packs In The BoonDocks,
Where Rats Needed A Structure To Twist Tongues,
Knotted At The Mooring For Liberty And For A Deity Of Mental Health,
To Arrive InTo A Fatherly Womb In Droves To Be Assimilated InTo A
Bleached Chorus,
Silent Lucid City Folk Leading The New World InTo The Old Country,
Through Prismatic Choreography And Gentlemen Bets,
Knicks Off The Slugger And Chips Off The Tooth…
…
These Days,Some People Will Pay AnyThing For A Funeral… A Motherly
Tomb…
…
…
Kings Are Made At The Shoveling Of Dirt,
The Jokes Are Laid ASide For Small Talk In The Office Elevator,
Just Before Approaching The Water Bottle And Kitchenette,
To Fight Over Jam Jars And Cheese Slices,
Golden Ringed Lemurs Throwing Nuts At Tourists Twenty Miles Down…
…
…
…
The Bonding Agent Of Social Integrity In Co-Relation To Preening
Morality,
Engineering A Structure Of Compromised Hands And Civilized Bakerys,
Rapping Knuckles And Ensureing Longevity Of The Program,
An Old Boy With An Old Dog And An Old Pair Of Slippers…
…
Sweating Baby-Boomed Discipline InTo The UnSatiable-Platonic BedRock,
For Incarnations Of Ponce De León To Drill InTo And Market To Massage
Parlors,
UnLess The Mechanics Of Man Call For Second-Hand Car Parks And
Collision Repair,
Those Asian Beautys Poseing So Sweetly Beside Groomed Shovels Of
Loathing Grace.

More at http://rwkt.blogspot.ca.

On Being Told I Am Good, but Not Good Enough – A Poem by Suzanne Cullen

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Today I was told I was good but not good enough.
I am cross with myself, because I should be good enough at what I do
by now.
I am average, above average on occasion and good, but not outstanding
as Ofsted would say.
That is also true of my parenting, my commitment to animal welfare,
weight loss and work.
I can be outstanding on occasions but I struggle with attitude, belief
and commitment.
I also like to do what I want to do, which is not necessarily what I
should be doing.
I hold up my hands, I am not good enough, you are right and sometimes
I don’t know if I have, or can be bothered to muster up, what it
takes to join the top tier.
There are no excuses to hide behind.
Mediocrity is a comfortable cushion to lie on until it is taken away
from me by the truth.

Humble – A Poem by G. S. Katz

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Humble
That’s how I’ve always thought of myself
When things are good
And I get ahead of myself
I have to calm myself down and remember
To be Humble

When things are bad
And I’m getting kicked in the stomach
I have to crawl back up
Fight the fight
And remember
To be Humble

Humble
The place to be
Humble
What we want in our friends
Lovers and even adversaries
Humble…

Triumph – A Poem by Naduni

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I see the softest eyes that ever were
On the blue of the singing water
And imagine you are here
When I feel as if you are there
In the blue of the soothing sky
I feel you are here
With me, around me
Above me
The blend of happiness, a tear in my eye
A pain in my chest, the guilt I feel
“Forgive me…” I murmur.
Help me, guide me, show me the path
When my the demons try to control my mind
They have succeeded six times
I can’t lose anymore
Guide me, tell me, advise me
Let me follow you
Let me, in the end,
TRIUMPH

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