“Love Poem” by L. K. Thayer

When I saw him at the corner in his car waiting
for the light to change, it had been 2 years.

He would remember calling me
impetuous
while we exchanged saliva and other bodily fluids.
He would remember telling me he wanted to marry me
& how hard it was to be apart. He would remember
our passion
& how rare it was, something you can’t find at the
5 & dime.
He said he loved me on our 4th date.

As he was making a right
he would be heading towards my apt.
the place we’d spent 9 months soaking in
each other’s juices.

I knew he’d pass my street, think of me
& feel homeless.
The light turned green.

It was a drive by

& I had the hole in my heart to prove it.
I felt blank,
like an unused sheet of paper
never wanting to write another
love poem again.

L. K. Thayer

Photo by VC Ferry

All Rights Reserved

© 2009

“HOMELESS” by Bill Duke

https://i0.wp.com/www.celebrityloop.com/assets/www.officialbillduke.com/gallery/vintage%20duke/7431.005.jpg

Nobody ever really cares
that
a bird has wings
as long as it flies
as
long as it dips
and swoops
and sings
Nobody really cares

Nobody ever really cares
whether
a
flower grows
as long
as it doesn’t
develop a nose
as long
as
a rose
is
a rose
is
a rose
that
throws us kisses
when
a
soft breeze blows
Nobody really cares

Nobody seems to really care
about the other’s pain
for we
must laugh
and dance
and sing
and not remind us
of
anything
that resembles fears
that
we’ve
secretly tried to cover
by
pretending
to be
devoted lovers
of
everything
except
ourselves
just
bridges
made
of
oyster shells
so
when
the bridge collapses
and
you fall
and
break
on
velvet blue concrete
you thought
was
a lake
just
chalk it up
as
another mistake
because
nobody
really
cares

Bill Duke

All Rights Reserved

© 2010

“Angel In A Cage” by Ty Granderson Jones

Civil Beasts
Lovers and Freaks,
Those who dwell,
and Men who mean well.
Knights in Shining Horror
riding Nightmares to nowhere.
Political Thieves with blood shot eyes,
and nothing but untold lies.

Concrete trees
with rotten leaves,
Smoggy beaches and polluted seas.
Homeless hope
and designer dope.
Hearts bleeding for need,
A famine feed.

City Slickers
And Porno Flickers.
Record breakers.
Population makers.
Baby makers and cradle shakers,
No givers just takers,
Suicide fakers.

Kiddie Killers
and news thrillers.
Gunslingers and pussy ringers
with sweet middle fingers.

Hard hitters and bullshitters,
Drug Dealers
and Holy Healers.
Right Wingers
and Humdingers.

Arroyan Brothers
And Heartless others.
Addicted mothers
And forgotten others.

A world in a scheme
Of a real dream,
Trapped in a cool hell,
In a rage!
Like a wild angel in a cage.

Ty Granderson Jones

All Rights Reserved

© 2009

Marika 2 by Alexis Rhone Fancher

Photo by Alexis Rhone Fancher

Photo by Alexis Rhone Fancher

she’s a sad little puddle of misery
on the sidewalk outside the bar.
shocking to see how much she’s
deteriorated in only a week.
she gums her words,
the always sad litany of her
always sad life and,
as always,
I give her $1.
I should go out after dark more often.
bring more money. but ever since my stepdaughter
started stealing my
cash, I stopped carrying any.
should I call social services? I ask. I take out my iphone.
no. they won’t come. you gotta be on the street for
thirty days before
they’ll come git you.
thirty days is a long time to be homeless,
destitute, puddled, distraught.
I’m just tryin’ta git me sumthin’ ta eat, a place ta sleep,
it’s been so hard,
so hard, she says.
I reach into my wallet.
give her all I have.
she follows me down the neon street,
nose running, eyes bright,
thanking me over and over.
I can’t get away fast enough.
All Rights Reserved
© 2009