“Truth In The Telling” by Julie Dolcemaschio

Truth spoke of the past
When northern lights
Were the new high
And patches on life rafts
Were a contribution worth noting

It told of days
Filled with sex and jealousy
But the demon sword-swallowers
Were the ultimate draw

A walk on the beach at midnight
Meant words were spoken quickly
And only then never to be uttered again

The luminescent waves
Would record the honey-filled poems
For their gift to live by

The quill speaks of the present
And finds solace in the memory of words
If the truth as she knows it can be written down
Then it stays forever true

So sayeth the brave lass

In possession of the dry pen

I am 20,000 leagues out of my league
And the time for goodbyes comes and goes
But the suffering lingers
Who will speak of the future when
Angels are so hard to find

I have met my share
And have a few perched on my shoulder
One who tells me of the past
And two who will show me the future

It will hold Grenache and frozen grapes
On a hot summer day
If they are lucky

And if it is true
That there is one man for every woman
And one woman for every man

I should like to snare the right choices
In a net of their choosing
So that happiness can be read
Even when the pen runs dry

The gift lives her own truth now

Truth drives the pen to run free

Julie Dolcemaschio

Photo by VC Ferry

© 2010

“Take Me As I Am” by L. K. Thayer

My blurry one, my echo chamber that soars across
the ocean over a thousand waves smashing against your shoreline,

remember me or forever keep me in
captivity of wonder, shrouded in mystery, a tangled weave, a puzzle.

Fear not, you are the master elevator that has enabled me to rise above my hinges.

Allow me to swing from the moon and lift me high above the clouds

where angels sip tea.

My force of nature, my rolling thunder, let lightening
strike twice between my shoulder blades and
sting me as he hath branded my flesh and
made me onto him, seamless, a blanket of down that
comforts me. Oh, the becoming, the unveiling mistress who now waltzes with her own divinity,

curtsies at the edge of fear that used to take her hostage, coddle her
under it’s wing, suffocating any smoldering revelation.

I pray you, lie back and let me feed you grapes one by
one. Pluck me, ravage my flesh, I want to feel your heart pounding

upon my bosom as one heartbeat heaving in mad syncopation.

Copulating in the concords, unraveling vines of confusion and crushing blows,

fusing together as divine beasts roaring with great pleasure
beneath the laughing sky.

Milk me, I am your maiden voyage, your
Pirate’s chest of silver and gold that
has been buried under the spoils of war
and the ruins of love.

Take me as I am.

I am yours.

L. K. Thayer

Photo by VC Ferry

All Rights Reserved

© 2010

“Chambers” by Kalliope Amorphous

the smell of money fills our lungs
our fields are filled with blood
dripping chambers for death knell
the infidel swings from the gallows
erected on our heavy tongues
here, we exile all angels to hell

i have made an aerie for the bodies of the damned
between my skull and womb
nestled in muscle and pulse
the lock is glued
the door is jammed
do not enter this tomb
or heaven will convulse.

Photo & Poem by Kalliope Amorphous

All Rights Reserved

© 2010

“Dulova” by Stephen Kalinich

Love is an undying dance..

escalate the Peace..

legislation can not make man act
judiciously
hate will manifest
if the heart is jealous envious
kindness never known
cannot be expressed…..

misfits end on streets
with no name
far away from memory
calm winters mischief
violent storms erupt
before killing undress yourself
jump naked into hell….

you have a choice
silent angels jump in front of cars
to save their mothers…

yesterday can not be brought back
take it from where you are
but be aware.
falling backwards
the bastards bomb
that small village
innocent children die
every second
someone is starving….

Stephen John Kalinich

Photo by Mark Mawston

All Rights Reserved

© 2010

“In The Mid Of Life” by L. K. Thayer

ripe

with angels
watching over me
my eyes swell with
longing to see
more than I can
know or explain
why
the days in and
out of weeks
in this

weeping willow

year
gone by

we are weathered
like leather worn
by a rodeo clown
thrown off and
tumbled
like a weed

the anvil is heavy
yammering in
my head

the melancholy
moisture
dew
on a fawns tail
glistens

and I

in the mid of life
seem just

beginning
to unfold

watch me

now

as I

take hold

L. K. Thayer

Photo by VC Ferry

All Rights Reserved

© 2009

“Angels” by Stephen Kalinich

I KNOW THERE ARE ANGELS
YOU CAN FEEL THEM IN YOUR HEART
THEY ARE THE ANSWER TO YOUR PROBLEMS
WHEN YOU FEEL TORN APART
LISTEN VERY CLOSELY HEAR THEM STIRRING DEEP INSIDE
THEY TURN THE SADNESS INTO LOVE
GIVE IT NOWHERE TO HIDE.

I KNOW THERE ARE ANGELS.
WHEN YOU ARE OVERWHELMED
WHEN YOU ARE STRESSED OUT TOO MUCH
THEY CAN TURN THE DAYS AROUND
FEEL THEIR HEALING TOUCH
IN THE GREATEST CHALLENGE
ON THE DARKEST LONELY NIGHT
THEY CAN COMFORT YOU
LET YOU KNOW EVERYTHING IS ALRIGHT.

I KNOW THERE ARE ANGELS
YOU CAN FEEL THEM EVERYWHERE
THOUGH YOU DO NOT SEE THEM
I KNOW THEY ARE THERE.
IN THE SMILES ON CHILDREN’S FACES
THE HOPE THAT SHINES IN THEIR EYES
I KNOW THERE ARE ANGELS TO BE EXPERIENCED
AND REALIZED

I KNOW THERE ARE ANGELS.
IN THE MIDST OF CRISIS THEY GIVE YOU COMFORT
AND PEACE IN ALL SITUATIONS
THEY GIVE YOU RELEASE
I KNOW THERE ARE ANGELS
WHEN YOU ARE TROUBLED RESTLESS
DONT KNOW WHERE TO TURN
WHEN YOU ARE IN PAIN
AND YOUR INSIDES BURN
YOUR EMOTIONS ARE RAW
AND CAN FIND NO RELIEF
WHEN YOU GIVE UP ON LIFE
AND HAVE NO BELIEF.
THERE IS AN ANSWER
WHEN YOU ARE TORN A PART
I KNOW THERE ARE ANGELS
YOU CAN FEEL THEM IN YOUR HEART.

ALL OF YOUR SWEET BURDENS WILL CEASE
I KNOW THERE ARE ANGELS TO GIVE YOU RELEASE.
THEY ARE HERE TO PROTECT YOU
YOU CAN FIND PEACE.
WHATEVER COMES AT YOU
WHATEVER KNOCKS YOU DOWN
I KNOW THERE ARE ANGELS
RIGHT HERE ON THE GROUND.
SO WHEN YOUR HEART IS HEAVY
AND YOU NEED A LIFT
THE ANGELS SURROUND YOU
THEY ARE A GIFT

I KNOW I KNOW I KNOW
THERE ARE ANGELS.

Stephen John Kalinich

Photo by VC Ferry

All Rights Reserved

© 2009

“The Hourglass Is Clear” by Jacquelyn Gail

Photo by Alexis Rhone Fancher

She didn’t know I was holding her hand

or where she was or why. She was here but not here.

She was far away and yet holding on. I was holding

on, holding her, holding her cold, limp fingers in my hand,

holding all my fears wrapped around the fears she had now forgotten.

My need for her filled the room, pushing out all the air.

I stopped breathing, forced my breathing, breathing for both of us.

Could she slip away before she filled the hole, endless,

stretching to the darkness of the night that I slipped through from my rooftop one night,

as I searched for the angels that did not come.

I understood. Abandonment was my backyard where the flowers

refused to grow. A stench rose up instead and I ran from the foulness,

the putrid aroma clinging to my skin and permeating my marrow.

Channel no. 5 was her cure; mine, Coco Mademoiselle the starter, and

Black Orchid subbing in when needed.

I needed her.

The hour glass was clear, it didn’t matter.

Jacquelyn Gail

All Rights Reserved

© 2009