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The First Death – A Poem by Roy Pullam

I did not know cancer
The mystery
More than my 6 year old mind
Could grasp
Just that my playmate
My cousin
Was in a little white coffin
In the middle
Of the living room
Of her house
My mother
Held my hand
As I saw Mary last
Her little white dress
Her hair in pigtails
Her eyes closed tight
But I knew
She was not sleeping
The low moan
Of her mother
The streaming tears
Of her father
As we sat
In a semi-circle
During the funeral
I heard the preacher
Speak of heaven
A place
Where Mary was
A place as alien
As death to me
Mary was gone
And I
Did not understand

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It's Divine – A Poem by Robin Wyatt Dunn

it’s divine
headache and muesli
sharp cotton
the smell of the gas processor
and the smiles of the harsh women

manning the snack tables
watching for UFOs
tagging their friends in tweets

as we begin the shakedown
this much for March
your life
this much for eternity
your marled face

each man
wonders at the shape of his horizon
orbiting the whirling dervish
of this millenial prize

horror out of time:
we each know the worth of the other
written over our scarves

the mounting terror of the night
and the light over the mountains
demons under the ground
and the shape of the stars
like the shape of your eyes

we’re marching into the basement
to photograph celebrities

and I’ve seen god
over the cement

one two three
one two three

the 1970s religion
and Shel Silverstein
shake my body into itself.
I stand ready with the water bottles

watching my country collapse

More at http://www.robindunn.com.

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The Easy Choice – A Poem by Loneven

What you see is what I allow you to see.
A carefully curated existence.
One that is deceitfully relatable and yet always just out of reach.
You know it. Deep down you know it.
But you ignore it. You choose to ignore what is under the surface.
Ironically, it is the superficial and that draws you in.
What you see is a moment.
Sometimes, as a consequence of its meaninglessness, even less than a moment.
You know there was before. You know there is after.
But you don’t care, do you?
You know the horror of the before.
You know the beauty and bliss of the before.
You know the dread and despair of tomorrow.
You know the promise and hope of tomorrow.
But you don’t care, do you?
You choose instead to lose yourself in the fleeting orgasm of the carefully curated, still I peddle your starved consciousness day in, day out.
I wonder then, between you and me, who is doomed?

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The Last Unanswered Question – A Poem by Roy Pullam

It is not sanitary
The endless loop of memory
The engine running
In the garage
He slumped over the wheel
The exhaust choking
The gray hanging
Like a veil
Between life and death
She killed the engine
Opening the garage
Calling his name
Slapping his face
Her voice husky
The gas burning her throat
Placing her finger
On his neck
Vainly seeking a pulse
Dragging him to the garage floor
Screaming for help
Compressing his chest
Imploring him to come back
To give us
Another chance
Gone, cold, lost
His reason a mystery
No note
No hint of hurt
How she turns it
The twist
She cannot straighten
No answer
The road so long
The few year remaining
As she travels alone

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Et Alors – A Poem by Stan Morrison

the world’s gonna end tomorrow
Michio Kaku said so on YouTube
researchers with no degrees
repeated the very same words
or maybe it’s sometime in 2035
there’s really no telling for sure
why do we gotta know exactly
got no plans after the NFL game
regardless I’ve planned ahead
got my food water guns ammo
kill anyone knocking at my door
they’re just looking to take stuff
wild dogs feral cats prowling
Michio what should we do
are you sure of your dates
Michio we’re waiting for you
tell us now it’s not too late
Niburu isn’t coming here ever

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Salvation for a Buck – A Poem by Roy Pullam

He walks the stage
Each move; each gesture
Practiced for effect
He holds the microphone
Like a lover
Raising his voice
Then lowering it
Caressing the crowd
With promises
God will return your gift
Tenfold
He will give you health
Bless your family
Only believe
Countless sinners
Await the message
An organ plays softly
With tears
Running the course
Of his face
The accomplice awaits
If generous souls
Do not thwart the devil
The final pitch
Leaving reminders
In the hearts
Of the poor
So many envelopes
One dollar, five dollars
Sacrifices
His prayer partners
Can ill afford
How they add up
Dollars become millions
Fuel for his private jet
A paved road
To his mansion
What a privilege
To serve the Lord

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A Quiet Death – A Poem by Roy Pullam

I saw a student die today
His eyes grew vacant
In a transfixed stare
Robbed of any interest
He did not tumble
From his seat
But slowly wormed his way
Ever lower in his place
He did not answer
To my query
Nor respond
To my mild rebuke
Others did not notice
They were so accustomed
To each death
For it to merit
Any significance
Yet I always will…for
He is the child
I killed

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Raindrops – A Poem by Roy Pullam

I do not understand
A raindrop
Its chemistry so precise
Though unique
Yet it has the conformity
Of millions
Kindred element combinations
What coaxes it
From the clouds
The subject of prayers
Both before and after
First reluctant
Then with a rush
Becoming a flood
I can’t fathom
How it can help
So much
Then turn in rage
Carrying hopes and ambitions
Downstream
It is the nature
Of water
To be
A blessing and a bane
To defy both
My beseeching
And my curse

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Fruitcakes – A Poem by Roy Pullam

We raked the leaves
With our shoes
Like children
On Easter
The same zeal
For finding treasures
Pecans in twos and threes
Where they fell
Beneath the brown
An angry squirrel
Barked his disdain
From the top
Of the tree
We made search circles
Making sure
We covered the circumference
Of the tree
Gathering the nuts
With the knowledge
Of their destiny
When we would
Crack them
Before the grate
Separating the meat
From the shells
Digging reluctant pieces
From the fist
Of the covering
With the pick
Rustling the kernels
Eliminating the shells
That might
Break a tooth
Mother would combine
The different nuts
Adding other ingredient
To make the wonderful
Fruitcake
We so enjoyed
Its richness
So great
That no matter
How delicious the taste
One piece
Was all
I could take
How I think
Of that desert
Not matched
By store-bought
Fit only
As door stops
The memory fresh
The promised dried
Gone
With the other skills
Of my mother

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