4 Poems by --- Raleigh D. Meadow PRELUDE How each tear fondles the synapses, yes salty tongues arousing electrical currents Oh but this foreplay of affliction leading up to vision THE MAGICIAN Abracadabra, presto! You know, that sophisticated, ego boosting tricked out, colorful side reflecting the expectations of our peers that they may gaze upon their own bright face thus seeing how beautiful we are WORDS 1 Of this Cheshire Cat existence all that shall remain of us is the smile of our words 2 It isn't money, but rather the word which makes the world go 'round It's fairly basic math actually world - word = l The remainder, (l) , denotes the effect that said equation would produce... a planet (l)ost ROMANCE, AND THE CONSENTING CHILD The Mountain Gorilla the Giant Panda the Red Wolf the truth many, are those in trouble Logger... Developer Tooth Fairy... Easter Bunny each are destroying habitat at an alarming rate To insure truth's survival its breeding grounds of honesty must remain pristine Yet fervidly the Fairy wields the chainsaw and the Bunny operates the 'dozer all overseen by the knowing eyes of project director Mr. Claus Can we ever hope to see an honest world when discovering romance in the lie is a child's Elysium
"Useless" --- by J. E. June Needling thoughts, Tailor my countenance. I know the quivering lip of rejection, Its unconditional trajectory. Emptied from womb and heart simultaneously, mother leaving without dialogue. father made nightly biological donations, his putrid way of acknowledging my existence. I walk in rote punctuation, The shuffle of new molecules, Would shatter my mind.
"CITY SKIN" --- by Averil Bones In an orange way hairy pits swung through vine thickets, left pungent streaks on recumbent timbers, rotting, writhing with creatures whose births went unlisted. Free-balling sinuous men who drop from limbs, orange-skinned, faces cocky over human eyes in the hothouse humidity of chirripping jungle climes. My baldy body sweats. In the distance orange voices shriek long grating echoes to my fearful ears, so as I reach down to pluck that long leech from my bloody city skin I see just how far I have come.
3 Poems by --- Neil Myers SUMMER Butterfly wings dissolve in my two small hands Apples under the apple tree we run over them with the Lawn-Boy juice flows out onto the grass where the hardworking bees stop by for a drink wood peckers bang away on the trunks of the apple and oak trees and all day long you hear them thump thumping their brains out play war with plastic machine guns your best buddy goes down in a hail of invisible bullets dust off your jeans pal drink water from the garden hose maybe you'll grow. CRITICAL So many stilleto tongues lashing and cutting wastelands of hope Hiroshima of the soul shreds of newborn paper ripped and redefined in the sea of ashes everywhere axes ready to fall on the new limbs of creation. ALTAR They fold their cracked hands in a silent monotone prayer across the brown oak bar they sit and float in the middle of a universe of noise Irish-jig music and shouted conversations The bartender gives this quiet communion as we drift away into the cieling thoughts rising up slowly out of the smoky trails of my cuban cigar dreams of Danish girls and Provence weekends home and the mountains of memory--autumn paper leaves and fiery colours Us and them we pray into the evening mist our glasses broken mirrors of faces old friends disappearing in silence past midnight we sit and sink pints of yellow holy water and strange new searchers among us waiting on lamented-dark prayers to be answered in the blue neon lights flashing: BUDWEISER. You can read more of Neil's poems, and other writings at... Carolina Pacifica
"Long Ago" --- by Stephen Mead Cold hands Warmed by another, Always someone warmer In that once going on... Returning is a glass path Across that bridge With no thought of: Make it different. Not then anyway. Not this time, Its particular past lasting Long as it takes to put One finger against still lips. Ssh. But they do not tremble. Ssh. But they do not speak, & time Curves over, holds the warm heart Inexperienced but for fear & Liking that slight touch More than many things given, More than the giving back by Nature anyway----- Being there, yes, just All for the being Stephen has other talents. Curious? Click his name... Stephen Mead
5 Poems by --- Duane Locke MY FACE Every evening upon arriving home from work A crow would place a basket in front of my door. The basket contained my real face. Next morning when going to work, I would take my real face off, Put in the basket for the crow to keep. Finally, I retired from working. I thought when I put my real face on this evening, I'd never have to take it off again. I was happy that I could keep on my real face, But when I opened the basket, My real face was not there, Only a different type of false face. A note from the crow said, "Your real face has been lost forever." IN THE SPRING A girl watered the white orchids.Watered Very sparingly. The sparseness gave her a petite joy It was a type of self-_expression. Next door, an old man put glass eyes in a gutta-percha doll. Kissed the doll Lavishly and abundantly on its coral lips. THE BANQUET; THE FEAST OF LIFE He opened the door to the banquet hall, saw Every seat except one at the table was occupied. He studied how he could get to this one seat Without being noticed, without causing a disturbance. He walked close to the wall, Pressed himself against the grayness and rococo designs. He tiptoed around the corners, Hoped no one would hear his steps, Would not turn around to stare. After much anxiety, he finally arrived at the one seat. He lokked to the left, no one was there. He looked to the right, no one was there. He looked around, no one else was in the room. He looked at the date on his watch. He had arrived two days early. THE NUDE He slipped into the museum. The underpaid guards were very lax. He wanted to see the notorious nude sculptures, But was ashamed to be seen buying a ticket. He observed that the naked sculptured woman Looked more real and passionate Than the real women he had known. Also, the _expression and gestures of these Sculptured woman suggested that these women Were capable of deep emotions, deep love. These capabilities are rarely found in real women Who are only capable of shallow lust and having babies. But he heard the guide coming with the crowd. He did not want it found out he slipped in, So he took off his clothes and stood among the nude sculpture. When the guide and the crowd Arrived at the place where he stood naked, He heard the comment, "How did this work get selected for the show? It is definitely the work of a very inferior artist Who has no sense of reality." THE ORCHARD A crowd was coming into the orchard. The place was called the orchard Because a long time ago it was an orchard. Now, just barren earth, with many Of the homeless sleeping under trees And in abandoned boxes. We saw the crowd now coming into the orchard Were made of marble. They were statues Of people who were famous when the orchard flourished. The homeless, not educated to know who was famous, spat On the marble people. The marble people thought they would be recognized and revered, Wiping the spit from their marble bodies, They cried, and ran away. We were surprised to see that marble legs Could move so fast. When they were gone, we gathered Up in a bag, the marble tears.
A Poem by --- Lita Sorensen "Your mind and you are our Sargasso Sea" --Ezra Pound Gushes rend themselves on rock smooth like sheets of silk gripping themselves tight, lolling over sands and silts uncontrolled, vulnerable, soothing creases like a fist made up only of skin and bone. Coercing grasses to arc their backs and be destroyed, evaporated, delivered, to drink from calm depths. You are a disease that has gained momentum. Your waters carry stealth & pestilence, reassuring in your murmurs of loss and flow, of algae-ebbed shallows. You reside below. ShoeString would like to thank everyone who submitted poetry. We regret having to turn away so much good work, but we're limited in space. Please try again. All material herein is Copyright protected. Use of any material without an Author's consent is prohibited by law.