Past Issues :: 2006 July 14 :: Street Poetry

Story of the Pain

By Shakele Ele

Mom,
barmaid — floozy — 8 husbands
alcohol syndrome baby
rape incest — 3 years old
Teach the little boy about girls what is
Indian corn lure
Sick Love
No food — maggots, cockroaches, dinner plate #2
Next door neighbor — food once in awhile
Me, not willing to discuss situation,
very bright little kid
Incurable, one way — transgenderism
Only way, but death out.
Angry disappointed hard to accept,
hard to honor any parent, either genetic ones.
7 foster families.
Redneck, not willing to go there.


Laughing at last

By Jacob Cardwell

Completely and totally numb
Lacking emotional or physical pain
Fuzzy around the edges
Mighty blurry is the brain
Accepting the fact that I’m dead
I have nothing but respect
For what lies rotting in my head
Some pretend like they understand
While failing to comprehend
I destroy myself
In order to begin again
Recreating my madness
Hardening this heart and soul
Towards all sorrow and sadness
Leaving no room for love or hate
So only fear remains
Struggling futilely
Against fearless iron chains
I’ve attached to my conscience
Which is screaming
Now utterly insane
I get the last laugh
Knowing I have only myself to blame


Do you sacrifice your value system?

By Roger G. Sundance

I was down and out and looking for work
The wolves on my porch were beginning to lurk.
Over 50 interviews I have done,
But not one job had I won.

Frustration, desperation and depression set in.
I was giving up hope on a job I could win.
So I set a goal to make some dough,
The next interview wouldn’t end in no.

An appointment today with a corporate wheel,
Visions of cash flow and a good hot meal.
But there was something wrong with this money deal.
The big wheel and company didn’t care how people feel.

My value system was vivid in my head.
I wanted peace within when I went to bed.
I told the big wheel I didn’t care how much
money was in the deal.
When I’m at work or at play I refuse to
lie, cheat or steal.

I said no to the shady, sneaky job offer,
And walked away without a penny for my coffer.
I walked home with my conscious intact.
A mental millionaire, and that’s a fact.

I was content and happy that I played fair,
I had just escaped that dreaded money lair.
And my value system was strong in me.


Agony to Flowers

By Kerry Clark

(Ah) Just to sleep
Forget this world
Its agony and other prisons
Let it…roll
Over my shoulder,
Run, down my back
And drip, from my haunches
Into the ground where
Mother’s thirst is waiting
To swallow it deep
And make it the seed
Of many colored flowers


From the Space Desk

By Jungle Cat

Sounds like abused people are a resource
Makes them follow own rhythms, tunes
Dance, move to an inner beat
Got art comin’ outta their pores
Grew up in Southeast Portland
Dumped as a senior down here
A force down here
Air Force
Jets, saucers
Star fields
Star bodies
Star sex
Star mates
wow!
Look out
The cat’s outta the bag
We talkin’ space time
It’s upon us already
After 200,000 years or so
Get ready to blow your mind


Untitled

Wiljanen
© 2006 Wiljanen

Will jump through if shown a hoop
Will sing, if given music
Given a broom and littered paths
Will Sweep
Will eat if gven food
Likely die while writing
If buried, will stay put


Death's Lure

By Ms. Therresa Kennedy and Mr. Bahram Saber

Once a blank word, distant with few defined edges,
Now undulates with a subtle movement, the lure of silken
Form, which now rarely leaves my vision.

Now the bed is made, the sheets lay flat with the scent of evening.

No more the days of planning my decades slow unfurlment,
No more polishing of ambitions to be put out on display,
Lying boastful, in a reflected light.

The once blank word swims darkly in dreams,
Extends its delicate hand to assist, becomes less foe than
Long absent friend.

Singing the exile to sleep,
Singing the exile to sleep

Singing…
The exile…
To sleep.


Playground of Illusions

By Chase Bigelow
Inspired by Marion Warfield

Cumulus clouds brim the lofty
heights of my consciousness.
Her essence soothes our
inner void and saturates all that
is hurtful and bad
toward mankind

When I dream tonight, come join
those who withdrawal from
the finer things in life

When we dream come play

and touch our inner child

on our sacred playground

for eternity


she enters

by Laura Stirewalt

My lover you are
my lover you’ve been
my lover you are not
but still we continue
Help you want
but help you shun
life stirs within
and still you run
hope sweetens your day
pain heightens your night
peace stays just
beyond your reach

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