Slave Labor

My chains are paper thin, and they're welded with me
Sealed inside a legal trap, so tight blood don't leak
A contract with a devil, for a life of disdain
See me in the limelight, an indentured slave
I blame myself.
God! Help me pour this gas on me!
I need to drown in flames to be free!
Help me pour this gas on me!
Choke another product for the mass to consume
The flocks of mindless sheep that have corporately groomed
I endrance through apathy, like drones in the hive
A slave on the prayer wheel in conformed disguise
I blame myself
God! Help me pour this gas on me!
I need to drown in flames to be free!
Help me pour this gas on me!
I sold my soul, I sold my soul ...
God! Help me pour this gas on me!
I need to drown in flames to be free!
Help me pour this gas on me!

song performed by Fear Factory
Added by Lucian Velea
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Peace Is Everywhere

Starless sky is my blanket,
when I sit in my roof top garden.
Still trees are my escorts,
Hiding me from shine, rain and intruders.
Flying airplanes with flicking lights,
yellow lamps at the streets,
red lights at the tip of high rises,
are for my visual pleasure.
Quiet neighborhood with barking dogs,
Clean roads with bustling vehicles,
Security guards calling one another,
while the bosses dipped themselves,
in air con noise and imported comforters.
How peaceful this place is,
when people have their rest.

Caged apartment and fumed air,
Down on the road, should I call it road? ,
Beside the weather and human ridden paths,
knee deep clogged ditches,

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poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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High Summer

Pinks and syringa in the garden closes
And the sweet privet hedge and golden roses.
The pines hot in the sun, the drone of the bee;
They die in Flanders to keep these for me.

The long sunny days and the still weather,
The cuckoo and the blackbird shouting together,
The lambs calling their mothers out on the lea;
They die in Flanders to keep these for me.

The doors and windows open: South wind blowing
Warm through the clean sweet rooms, on tip-toe going,
Where many sanctities, dear and delightsome be --
They die in Flanders to keep these for me.

Daisies leaping in foam on the green grasses,
The dappled sky and the stream that sings as it passes --
These are bought with a price, a bitter fee --
They die in Flanders to keep these for me.

poem by Katharine Tynan
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Sea Life

A seafarer’s life

I didn’t want to work in a factory and get my hands dirty,
be locked inside grey walls six days a week, as everyone
else in my street was, so I got a job selling books from
house to house; only I was so terrible shy.

The first doorbell I rang was also my last, the woman who
opened the door was kind enough but she didn’t want to
buy anything, I nearly cried, and didn’t have the courage
to press my finger on another doorbell.

Selling pictures of farms, taken from a helicopter, was
my next job, out all day taking the bus to the countryside
only the day I got there it was raining I had no umbrella
and the first farm I came to was also my last.

I took a course training to be a waiter, in white jacket
and golden epaulet I looked handsome, so my sister said.

[...] Read more

poem by Oskar Hansen
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That Illusion

The night weeps its sentiment to us all, but oh how
Many lines have begun like that:
And I wish I could be more original for you;
And now I want to walk to your house again:
I want to be a flag on your body rippling and casting for gold,
Because now haven’t I seen you captivated high up in the clouds
In a house of giants:
Isn’t it a white man’s house: even further, isn’t it my house,
Alma:
I want to find you and stretch you out and ask your where your beautiful
Belt has gone,
And to which knight you gave it to, to save his neck:
I know you gave it to one knight on his lunch break, but to which
One I am uncertain,
But I want to be your king just so I can have the authority to find these
Things out,
And to feed my life-giving poultry to your children:
Alma, I dream of you walking your children to the bus stop,
And I dream of you walking through cut out snowflakes and paper airplanes:
I dream of you always on the move, Alma, because your body gives off

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poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
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Sah

Somebody should give me the kiss of love,
For i am still looking for she who loves my heart;
And this will be like the River of Flowers!

This love is like Sah, my friend in my school days! !
So somebody should give me the kiss of love;
For i am flying in my Jet Plane searching for my lover!

Come to the treasure of my love and play with me,
Fr this will be like masons and stonecutters!
But with a complete act of honesty and deep love to share with you,
And i will be landing soon to kiss your lips.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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T h i s...

This…thing… which visits me,
torturer so intimate
which knows me better than I know myself:
calls out all my resources
to transcend its pains;
changes always its approach
as if it’s quite determined to
leave no corner unexplored…
plays on my fears, my hopes, my dreams…:

what can I do but see it as
the hurdle (which I built myself?)
but failed to clear, the last time round;

have another try…see it from
the helicopter hovering overhead
which photographs, but does not feel
the rider or the horse; the going, or the race..

have another try…it is the way

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poem by Michael Shepherd
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Peace In Our Time

Out of the aeroplane stepped chamberlain with a condemned mans stare
But we all cheered wildly, a photograph was taken,
As he waved a piece of paper in the air
Now the disco machine lives in munich and we are all friends
And I slip on my italian dancing shoes as the evening descends
And the bells take their toll once again in victory chime
And we can thank God that weve finally got
Peace in our time
Theres a man going round taking names no
Matter who you claim to be
As innocent as babies, a mad dog with rabies,
Youre still a part of some conspiracy
Meanwhile theres a light over the ocean
Burning brighter than the sun
And a man sits alone in a bar and says oh god,
What have we done?
Chorus
Theyre lighting a bonfire upon every hilltop in the land
Just another tiny island invaded when hes got
The whole world in his hands

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song performed by Elvis Costello
Added by Lucian Velea
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Another Chapter Of Suspense And Happiness

when you are gone
you are gone for good

you are gone and i do nothing about it
because when you are gone you are simply gone and i do nothing
to make it more sophisticated or

complicate such a very simple matter as a departure

it takes only a second when the jet plane takes off
and all its sound is gone
its trace of smoke in the sky simply dissolves in that blue canvass

soon it is empty and soon blackbirds dot its hues of white and blue

what is there to make about those hands that forget about waving?
those eyes that look so happy watching the fields flashing away from the window of the bus?

or an array of thin sheets of clouds from the window of the plane?

[...] Read more

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Shadowy Passages of Another School

Coming swiftly towards Christmas while
All of the boats and their
Pirates swing-
And the oceans look so beautiful, whilst the rose
Bushes are all awash-
And the forts of your harems are always so beautiful
That their colors cannot even be described,
But they keep to themselves,
And keep flying their unsurrendered flags
Underneath the heavens whilst I search for
My own home,
As the sea swells and becomes too beautiful and
Doesn’t even care,
As my sisters travel further and further away from
Me,
As you keep your mouth to my ear, and keep
Wanting to promise me “promises, ”
Forcing me to spend the weekends alone-
Getting massages,
And losing all of my faiths as the sea swells,

[...] Read more

poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
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Where The Super Heroes Fail

Coming swiftly towards Christmas while
All of the boats and their
Pirates swing-
And the oceans look so beautiful, whilst the rose
Bushes are all awash-
And the forts of your harems are always so beautiful
That their colors cannot even be described,
But they keep to themselves,
And keep flying their unsurrendered flags
Underneath the heavens whilst I search for
My own home,
As the sea swells and becomes too beautiful and
Doesn’t even care,
As my sisters travel further and further away from
Me,
As you keep your mouth to my ear, and keep
Wanting to promise me “promises, ”
Forcing me to spend the weekends alone-
Getting massages,
And losing all of my faiths as the sea swells,

[...] Read more

poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
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Drones

You waste away
A spinning cage
Rats blinded by the sun
You spend your days
Stuck in that race
And life has just begun
In paradise there's ill neglect
And lives are lost in full distress
The wage of sin is money spent
Your life undone, full of regret
Lost in the maze
Falling away
And now your life
Amounts to nothing
The fortune has a price
'Cause in the end
all humans die
A dead drone in the hive
In paradise there is ill neglect
And lives are lost in full distress

[...] Read more

song performed by Fear Factory
Added by Lucian Velea
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Pictures From Bama

My friend Tom's from Alabama
State bird, Yellowhammer
Golden rod's their state flower
By the road side, it does tower
In full bloom this time of year
Growing out of waters clear
Waters where the fishing's fine
Horizon lined with long leaf pine
These the pictures he sends me
Bitter sweet ‘heart of Dixie'
The best is when his time is free
In the sun he likes to be
Drives his boat to nearest lake
Leaving dry land in its wake
Catching bass of winning size
Aware of black bears watchful eyes
He contemplates a time gone by
Mesmerised by dragon flies
Who hover there, metallic blue.
Then blurred wing dart them out of view.

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poem by Stevie Taite
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Like School Kids Skipping Away To Nothing In Particular

Cannibals slum as rain streaks the windows
Before el arco iris,
And I have seen her turning to me like a beautiful
Ship made out of the lumber of trees
That don’t grow anymore
Except for in the rhapsodies of her eyes:
There they grow and captivate little school hood boys,
As the airplanes dye cast from precious metals allotted
From the school boxes of our young truancies
Build a tiara for her sainthood;
And she yawns as foreplay and shows her teeth,
Her incisors imbedded before her smile like the sharp
Moon kindling for the wolf;
And the firemen come out to greet her and lay down
With the dragons after the busy work day is over
And the wind is picking up around our little house
The same way it does for school buses;
And the mariposas dance and sing in her throat as if they
Were teenagers somehow enjoying a ballet,
And she lets them there, and purrs like a mountain lion

[...] Read more

poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
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Like School Kids Skipping Away To Nothing In Particulare

Cannibals slum as rain streaks the windows
Before el arco iris,
And I have seen her turning to me like a beautiful
Ship made out of the lumber of trees
That don’t grow anymore
Except for in the rhapsodies of her eyes:
There they grow and captivate little school hood boys,
As the airplanes dye cast from precious metals allotted
From the school boxes of our young truancies
Build a tiara for her sainthood;
And she yawns as foreplay and shows her teeth,
Her incisors imbedded before her smile like the sharp
Moon kindling for the wolf;
And the firemen come out to greet her and lay down
With the dragons after the busy work day is over
And the wind is picking up around our little house
The same way it does for school buses;
And the mariposas dance and sing in her throat as if they
Were teenagers somehow enjoying a ballet,
And she lets them there, and purrs like a mountain lion

[...] Read more

poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
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Flying Leaf

Flying leaf.

Tuesday I´ve looked in my kill list, but couldn´t find
anyone to drone today, yet had time for the betting
shop and won ten euros on a horse called Abdulla.
In my trunks only, I went for a scooter drive; country
lane a woman came out of her dwelling and crossed
herself, yes I look like an overcooked vanilla pudding;
but no need of her to throw pebbles and set her
poodles on me. Why do I end up in the wrong places?
Once was waiting for a bus taking me to Garston and
it was raining; I have forgotten what I was doing there,
I remember a black woman who gave me a sunshine
smile and rain stopped. Still Tuesday and I have no
assassination list ready only memories of a life where
I was torn from the mother oak, drifting in the wind

poem by Oskar Hansen
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The Insomniac Is Alive

there is yet no pillow designed for him
to make him sleep soundly
instantly like a click of flourescent light
or the blink
the flash of hypnotism
or the tap of his hand

then sleep like a dead dog, this insomniac, like you
(it is 2: 09 a.m. now, and what blinks it only this power
of the computer and it buzzing sound like
an insomniac
bee in a sleepless garden)

sleep is too cruel and unkind
not even trying to hold my collar and pull me to a soft bed
and give me peace and rest

well then
go, go away sleepy butterflies go away to

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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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An Outward Sign

What foolishness, we’ve come to share
The devil, laughs in scorn
Even the Christian name we bear
Is oft unjustly worn

The Christian faith is not a trend
No whim, nor passing quirk
It’s God, to have as Lord and friend
It’s Jesus Christ at work

If mind and soul’s not seen a change
If Fire; is not inside
If Christ God’s Word remains us strange
Hell’s mouth's still open wide

Pretence; is not a Christian song
Deceit’s not Jesus’ tune

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poem by Michael P. Johnson
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The Weeping Moon

Witnessing the blood baths, the massacre
Of God’s people, children’s bodies everywhere,
And octogenarians expire slowly and quietly in horror.
The undistorted and the vivid images of terror,
The ugly realities of life for millions; what a rancor!
The large plumes of gray phosphorus smoke! There is nowhere
To hide. Showers of shrapnel, unprecedented heavy shellings,
White clouds of death and discriminating lynchings
Of everything that breathes, walks, runs and flies;
This is war, this is sheer terrorism! The God-flies;
Where are they when they are needed?
Our world should not be so muted,
So insensitive toward so many.
This is a shameful disaster, a pity…
To do nothing and hope for the awakening of the gods;
The worms, the flies, the rats and the tods
Must be happy. What an inhumane feast!
In this young century, we cannot find Peace.
The photos are real, and dying is not a joke.
The lenses of the camera recorded the blood soaked

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poem by Hebert Logerie
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Why Give Them Drugs?

Why are you sad?
when you should be glad.
For it is true that feelings
change fast...
but they don't have to last.
Feelings are not you
but they help transform life
and make it better too.
Without emotions we would only be clones
be all the same like a Star Wards drone.
It's too bad that parents let doctors
make kids just go through the motions-
and not their range of emotions.
We shouldn't be like witches
and give them potions.
Great Indigos, Star children and Crystals kids
have come here-
to help the planet so dear.
So just let them live more alive
Let them feel a whole range of emotions,

[...] Read more

poem by Christina Sunrise
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