2010 I
Mirage
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Flashing Confederate Money in Detroit
Hey, chink! You, slant eyes!
Where ya off to, thinking you so smart,
just cause you got an education?
You oughta stayed in China Town.
Ain't right you comin here
and takin our jobs.
Bet your mama took in clothes.
You related to Suzy Wong?
I saw lots of boys just like you
sittin back of her place
gutting pigeons
when I took leave to Hong Kong.
Like I say, chink,
where ya off to, thinking you so smart?
We got fellas here knows
how to take care of trouble like you.
Louie Crew
Louie Crew, 73, an Alabama native, is an emeritus professor at Rutgers. He lives in East Orange, NJ, with Ernest Clay, his husband of 35+ years.
As of today, editors have published 1,968 of Crew's poems and essays. Crew has edited special issues of College English and Margins. He has written four poetry volumes Sunspots (Lotus Press, Detroit, 1976) Midnight Lessons (Samisdat, 1987), Lutibelle's Pew (Dragon Disks, 1990), and Queers! for Christ's Sake! (Dragon Disks, 2003).
The University of Michigan collects Crew's papers.
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LOVE IS A RIVER
Cutting, carving, etching,
Relentlessly piercing,
Never relenting,
Love is like a river.
Tranquil, placid, soothing,
It can be the comfort of God.
Turbulent, surging and raging,
It can be the wrath of God.
Life's precious moments are recorded
And only the soul can see.
Private and solitary,
They are a mere speck of time.
Love is eternal.
By
Rene Laliberte
9/22/99
The poet reports: I am a graduate of CSU,Chico in Chico, California. I spent twelve years as an elementary school teacher and am now retired from that profession. I am a disabled veteran from the Vietnam Conflict and I use my time to write. I have been writing all my life, however I have realized that my heart is in my poetry. I have written an anthology of over seventy poems which I have entitled Sex, Sins and Souls.
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Love For Real
My eyes are on you,
this time they see love for real.
My heart has been broken
in pain i saw love, i couldn't feel
In search of you, i knew i would not be forever lonely.
I knew you were out there somewhere.
Just waiting the right kiss,
the right touch, like this!
Written by: Doze
The poet reports: My name is Walter Ward Jr. born April 5, 1969 in Chicago Heights, Illinois to parents Walter & Betty Ward. I am the second oldest child of the six. We grew up in East Chicago Heights, Il., now known as Ford Heights, Il. I attended Cottage Grove Middle School, located also in Ford Heights. I attended Bloom Trail High School, & graduated in 1988. I married August 1995, in Hazelcrest, Illinois. My wife & I decided moving to Georgia would work well for us, so we relocated as a family, October 2000. I am a current resident of Cartersville, Georgia, with a family of six, & loving every minute of life! - Note - Doze.
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Spring - Withdrawn by request -
Hannah Pauli
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Disintegration
When emotions lay fragile as the single egg,
Our broken hearts can crumble atop their shattered shells.
But, I warn you not to climb upon the boulder for stability.
For even rocks can crack.
K. Mulroney
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Retreat
At quitting time, in gathering mobs,
the frenzy flows, homeward bound.
In the crowded subways and buses,
demotic public transportation,
guiding the drones to destinations
that may eradicate
the desolation of the office.
Gary Beck
Gary Beck reports: Gary Beck has spent most of his adult life as a theater director and worked as an art dealer when he couldn't earn a living in the theater. He has also been a tennis pro, a ditch digger and a salvage diver. His chapbook 'Remembrance' was published by Origami Condom Press and 'The Conquest of Somalia' was published by Cervena Barva Press. A collection of his poetry 'Days of Destruction' has been published in 2009 by Skive Press. Another collection 'Expectations' is being published by Rogue Scholars Press. His original plays and translations of Moliere, Aristophanes and Sophocles have been produced Off Broadway and toured colleges and outdoor performance venues. He currently lives in New York City , where he's busy writing. His poetry and short stories have appeared in hundreds of literary magazines.
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Captain of Death
Dust fills the air, dust covers our ranks,
Over our silent band.
Water calls from the mirage, water of life,
Deep, under the sand.
Sell the gold to Cebu, send to their King,
Buy my life.
Bury the gems, hide the silver,
Won in strife.
Mad we are, mad in this barren waste,
Lost in burning sand.
Die, die we must in these rocks, in Cebu,
Our new won land.
Horses in the distance, pale horses;
Chariots of the South.
Gold, red gold, fills our hand,
Dust fills our mouth.
Jerome Brooke
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Sea
Ador, Lady with the dark, fatal eyes,
Sing now of the swift, troubled seas.
Weep no longer for the black river,
Flowing down to the distant waves.
Sail through the distant mist,
Mist of time, mist of dying souls.
Jerome Brooke
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Ages Past
Planes of Mirage, clouds of mist, lie deep,
Freed by light.
Ages past, lost to all eyes, dwell below,
Waiting for life.
Lovers in the spring, death in winter,
Await their freedom.
Empires of Iron, Kings noble and wise
Sleep lightly.
Jerome Brooke
Clouds and Mist
Dark waves rise, race to the shore,
Black nights of the soul.
At sea, pale clouds, and mist, hide memory,
Moments of joy, and sorrow.
Layers of Mirage, and Fate, reach down,
Free of light.
Ages past, lost to her eyes, dwell below,
Waiting for life.
Jerome Brooke
Hills of Life
Goddess of Night, of the silent hills,
With voice of gold ;
Sleep well in the folds of the earth,
Your green, mute hills.