If You Don't Take The Risk, Jump The Abyss Like A Firefly

If you don't take the risk, jump the abyss like a firefly
between two polarities, how are you ever going
to release your potential as the stem cell of a bridge of light
from one hemisphere of your brain of starmud
to the other side of your shining? Whenever
there are two eyes it's crucial that you make a third.
And if you haven't got the courage to jump from your artificial paradise
without knowing whether you've got a parachute on or not,
go ask the dandelions gone to seed how to take a fall
like the free radical of a kiss on the breeze, touch life
lightly as if you were feeling the weave of the silk mist
rising like someone's last breath off the morning lake
or ask the seasoned helicopter pilots of the dragonflies
and maple keys about doing double wheelies like dna helices
when you've driven way past the end of the road like Thelma and Louise
and your animation's been suspended trying to cling
to the wind like a rafter of air you can hang from
like the larva of a caterpillar repelling down a Dutch elm
on a thread of fate you've got to pull like a rip cord
if you want to be a skydiver instead of a half-baked butterfly

[...] Read more

poem by Patrick White
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Into the unfathomable abyss

At times I dream
that I fall and fall,
into the unending abyss
without finding any place
to stop the fall.

Darkness folds
over me and I fall,
still deeper into it.

It’s much worst
than parachute jumping
and feeling the material
braking your fall
and to see the earth
rushing to you in a blink.

It’s like a black hole
which opens its mouth
and sucks you in

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poem by Gert Strydom
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Lips

Succulent;
Ardent in candor;
Bloated with passion;
Yet lighter than a feather;
Waltzing like an ethereal sylph;
A cavalier in spirit;
A bohemian rhapsody in motion;
Gelatinous tides cascading and ebbing,
In two fold symmetry;
Jazzing amidst the summer mistrals;
Journeying to my path of sight.
Palisades to your whispers,
In your bewildering contrasts,
A celestial union of Artemis and Aphrodite;
Hestian portals of your hearth,
Guarded by sensuous Nymphs;
Conduits to your reservoirs of unconditional love,
Pristine waters of an amazonian wilderness;
Two quadrants of watermelon,
Squeezed from within to conceive;

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poem by Dilantha Gunawardana
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Parabats

Smiting death when we parachute in,
flying on silken wings through the sky,
gathered in a brown storm
that sweeps in
and the enemy like puppets perish
where we land.

We cannot give back life
like God to tformed clay,
yet we are forced to take away existence
day by day
with machinegun, mortar
and rocket propelled grenade.

Fearless men ready to endure,
trusting in God alone.

[Reference: Parabats=> South African airborne soldiers.]

poem by Gert Strydom
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Art

Indulging in self-obsessed navel watch for greedy eyes
like a cloud of saliva around the amygdale, they

walk on sands fudging, seizing contradictions,
smelling of raw flesh and salt, an extinction spring.

The seeds are floating an parachutes between the
burnt-out lures. Everything splits into sparks

charging the air. The guilt looms large, arches
like an octopus, riveting before an artful design.

Just one lump of sugar on peripheral fields to
dilate the pupils in dark baking the bones.

Let us swim up to the wall, wild in our groins
tie up the shoelaces and climb the portrait.

poem by Satish Verma
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A Plea For Life

Deeply rooted to the soil of her temple
Irrigated by a symbiotic aqueduct
And chutes of fertilizer sculpted by fatum
As two destinies converged in the name of love's enslavement
A uterine cradle, swelling in the grotto of her womb
Her shrine, the compass to my father's seed
As they swam mercilessly in their journey from autonomy
To the shackles of a symbiotic slavery
As murmurs of her filth gush to my listening lobes
Encroachment of a diabolical darkness, draped in the chills of apathy
As her lips sow the seeds of her emancipation
Caustic words brushing my sordid self, an ingrained abscess of pus
Spawned to fortune's grievous decree of miscreation
To be dispossessed to never to set eyes on the rising sun
As I make a valiant plea, a jingle of my crooked torso
In undiluted tides of an apical love, in my final crusade
To metamorphose her sodden apathy to a streak of tenderness
To sap one droplet of her residual entropic love
To suckle one serendipitous day………Her miraculous blood

poem by Dilantha Gunawardana
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Junk

Junk
Motorcars, handlebars, bicycles for two
Brokenhearted jubilee
Parachutes, army boots, sleeping bags for two
Sentimental jamboree
Buy, buy says the sign in the shop window
Why, why says the junk in the yard
Ya da da da da la da da da
Buy, buy says the sign in the shop window
Why, why says the junk in the yard
Ya da da da da da da la la la la la
Candlesticks, building bricks,
Something old and new
Memories for you and me
Words and music by paul mccartney

song performed by John Denver
Added by Lucian Velea
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Setting A Few Records Straight

There is nothing like confronting,
An adversary who initiates conflicts...
But somehow has forgotten,
The ones that attempted...
To ruin you and your reputation.

With character assassination...
And malicious gossip,
Propped up on lips nonstop!
The only ones knowing,
What this might be like...
Are those not living their lives,
Appeasing others...
Sitting on a fence.
And living in a noncommitment status!

With hand extended to welcome you,
The one with an absence of memory...
Invites you as someone new,
To a neighborhood...

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Alibi School

My pal, Jake, majored in corruption.
His final exam: a girl from the Midwest,

three weeks to dismantle eighteen years
of good parenting. High results came early

in the easy days, with the principal taking
his puff from the honor role in the bathroom.

In gym we learned how to turn our backs
on the world at once; the team

elected me captain of varsity nosebleeds.
At the prom, we parked our limousine

before doing the mandatory wind sprints;
my date's eyes were big, hazel dictionaries.

At our homecoming Jake injected the clouds
with a hero's last breath; rain on the victory parade

[...] Read more

poem by Jeffrey McDaniel
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5. Snow Fun

I remember in the fifties when the snow fell very quick
Like big cornflakes crunchy crisp and sparkling white
I remember ground was frozen and it settled very thick
It kept falling down like sheets throughout the night

I remember in the morning as we opened our front door
To a solid wall of snow that filled the frame
I remember how we shouted when it fell upon the floor
Then we tried the back to find that just the same

I remember pipes were frozen no more water solid ice
Not a dropp it was as dry as it could be
I remember all the kids thought the snow was very nice
And our parents making plans to get us free

I remember how the snow fell and dad rushing at the door
Diving forward like a badger in fine fettle
I remember fresh white snow makes a lovely cup of tea
When you scoop it up and boil it in the kettle

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poem by David Threadgold (2008)
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Rusholme Ruffians

The last night of the fair
By the big wheel generator
A boy is stabbed
And his money is grabbed
And the air hangs heavy like a dulling wine
She is famous
She is funny
An engagement ring
Doesn't mean a thing
To a mind consumed by brass (money)
And though i walk home alone
Though i walk home alone
My faith in love is still devout
The last night of the fair
From a seat on a whirling waltzer
Her skirt ascends for a watching eye
It's a hideous trait (on her mother's side)
From a seat on a whirling waltzer
Her skirt ascends for a watching eye
A hideous trait (on her mother's side)

[...] Read more

song performed by Smiths
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The Last Flight

Ud Jayega Huns Akela,
Jug Darshan Ka Mela
Jaise Paat Gire Taruvar Se,
Milna Bahut Duhela
Naa Jane Kidhar Girega,
Lageya Pawan Ka Rela
Jub Howe Umur Puri,
Jab Chute Ga Hukum Huzuri
Jum Ke Doot Bade Mazboot,
Jum Se Pada Jhamela
Das Kabir Har Ke Gun Gawe,
Wah Har Ko Paran Pawe
Guru Ki Karni Guru Jayega,
Chele Ki Karni Chela

English Translation

The Swan Will Fly Away All Alone,
Spectacle of the World Will Be a Mere Fair

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poem by Kabir
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My Memory

I see a memory of mine distant,
Open your eyes to distance,
Have a danger to excite,
Eyes crawl, swaying and oscillating due to danger
Of guns, of gnats and over guests.
These guests are the pilots engineering their minds
To offend us in their slaughtering schemes.
By parachutes an attack is causing damage and injury
To a village of innocent blood.
By action of gunning, the guns are injuring us in other ways
And their slaughter is defence, just not offence.
My village needed my concern before a unique future began,
When a master believed in me, he must have destroyed me.
He said: Danger is hurting us deeply, so deeply that it hurt.
This I remember.

poem by Naveed Akram
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Working On Some Symbolism

lately i have been working on certain
symbolism of his poetry
and some paintings: an old man without a foot,
a nude woman inside his open stomach,
stuff pegions fishing for a parachute
or an air balloon and a fish in air
a red jacket without a body
a man with the head of a big chinese fan
a secret exit where a hand feeds
a hidden snake.Max Ernst your painting pains me.
I am lost but soon in your symbols
i shall find the entrance
of understanding the world within the four corners
of your brightly colored canvass.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Rockapella

As ten thousand maniacs emerge form an oasis that's everclear
My soundgarden was invented to blind melons and smash pumpkins
How could a whole nation of crash test dummies hope to release the grapes
of wrath
On the day of Sabbath knowing it'll be black
Especially when they might be giants and they take to the air with stone
temple pilots
I'm in a parachute club with the motley crew
My b-52

song performed by Swollen Members
Added by Lucian Velea
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Nike Shox

on the outside, nike is great
nike makes ballin shoes, jordan and melo
they make pro golf shirts, blue green and yellow
they make casual wear directed at teams like nike boots
they make athletic training equiptment like ladders and parachutes
they make great sports gear like nike pro
they sponser combines for young football players so college they can go
they are associated with so many youth-adult sports teams
you would think they would endorse children's dreams
instead they exploit children and cause them pain
sweatshops leave them damaged and maimed
but because they are in poor countries where the children have no to grow
most kids who idle nike will never know
NIKE SHOX

poem by cedric watson II
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There are few things in life

I

There are few things in life
that will equate,
the freedom
that you get on a motorbike.

II

Speed and power is something
that can easily grab you
and maybe you can fetch the same
adrenalin rush
if you parachute
or go down with a bungi rope,
but it’s maybe better to be part
of a iron horse
and alone with your self
and with the wind and the sun
see the road flashing by.

[...] Read more

poem by Gert Strydom
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Morose Moon

MOROSE MOON
esspeecee …16.07.09.

I’m hearing
Maddy music
Hip hops
In the cruise
Lovers romancers’
Flirt crazily chirp.

I’m seeing
Lurid love gusto
Lapping unto lees.

I’m seeing
Within azured ocean
Sinking of lone
Somber moon.

Ambulant songs

[...] Read more

poem by Dr. Sakti P. Chakravorty
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Shearing With a Hoe

The track that led to Carmody's is choked and overgrown,
The suckers of the stringybark have made the place their own;
The mountain rains have cut the track that once we used to know
When first we rode to Carmody's, a score of years ago.

The shearing shed at Carmody's was slab and stringybark,
The press was just a lever beam, invented in the Ark;
But Mrs Carmody was cook -- and shearers' hearts would glow
With praise of grub at Carmody's, a score of years ago.

At shearing time no penners-up would curse their fate and weep,
For Fragrant Fred -- the billy-goat -- was trained to lead the sheep;
And racing down the rattling chutes the bleating mob would go
Behind their horned man from Cook's, a score of years ago.

An owner of the olden time, his patriarchal shed
Was innocent of all machines or gadgets overhead:
And pieces, locks and super-fleece together used to go
To fill the bales at Carmody's, a score of years ago.

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poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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Rupert Murdoch

Bravo Rudi
You are the fat cat of plagues
The down under Baron
For the information dark age
Tantalizing us with your scandals
Building heroes to defame
Selling Margaret and Dear Tony
Filling orders for Mr. Cheney
Schooled in the art of the modern prince
Your Rosebuds cunning apartheid

You Build and destroy lords with your pen
Scratch a career with an errant end nib
You're the Emperor charlatan
Of keeping the truth out of focus
A xenophobic preacher
Guarding discriminating locusts
Owing more to the laundry
of the check line aristocracy

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poem by Kevin Patrick
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