"Summer Has Come and Gone"
-Jonathan

Three months never felt this long
You wrote the right, I read the wrong
Stuck here with an anchor in my heart
Weighing me down from taking part
In what could’ve been a brand new start 

Here’s to hugs and kisses
We never shared
Broken falls, that’s not all
I was only scared 

The calendar turns to September
Oh how this summer was one to remember
Summer concerts in the rain
Holding your hand, but not in vain
Two-folded are these dreams
Of me with you and you with him 

June, July, August
I was only trying to be honest
I had intentions of making you swing
But I had no intention of being
Just your summer fling
Skip right through winter into spring 

Here’s to cheers and beers
We never had
Fallen love, unworthy of
Making me sad 

The calendar turns to September
Oh how this summer was one to remember
Summer concerts in the rain
Holding your hand, but not in vain
Two-folded are these dreams
Of me with you and you with him 

Here’s to hugs and kisses
We never had
Broken falls, that’s not all
Making you sad 

Here’s to cheers and beers
We never shared
Fallen love, unworthy of
Making you scared
Two-folded are these dreams
Of me with you and you with him 

Of me with you and you with him 

-0-

Cuckolded Chuck Cavebury.
Terry Collett

Chuck Cavebury caught his wife in bed with some stud from Memphis. 
Chuck got home early. 
His car was packed with goodies for their anniversary. 

Flowers, chocolates, clothes, expensive stuff, not cheap or off the peg, But the real costly dollar items. 
He saw red. His eyes grew cold. 

Chuck never knew the fellar
From Adam or damned Eve. 
His wife screamed. 

The man sat up and looked pasty. 
Eyes all met. Words were said. 
Chuck pulled a face and smiled coldly. 

He’d take the damned things back
And get his dollars returned. 
“The flowers and chocolates can go to hell,” Chuck said. 

He slammed the door. 
Walked to his car, casting said flowers and chocolates on the sidewalk. 
The sun shone. The car took off. 

Dust was disturbed on the road from Jacksonville to Tallahassee.  
No bird sang.

HOLLYWOOD INTERVIEW
Dave Whippman

My marriage failed (they always do.)
Emotionally Unequipped
To work things out without a script,
We didn’t try to talk it through.

What do I pay that therapist for?
You  can’t see what emotions mean
Until you get them on the screen.
We left them on the studio floor.

The press put all the blame on me:
I’ve always suffered for my art.
I threw myself into my part
(She threw herself into the sea.)

And now this nomination! But
I have to thank the cast and crew
And the director- that guy knew
Exactly how much grief to cut.

-0-

Until We Dance, for Joseph
Jessica Care Moore
Performed at the NYC, San Francisco and Atlanta AIDS Walk Opening Ceremonies 2002 and 2003

I was taught about AIDS
Inside the whispers and beneath the foundation of my white aluminum Detroit house.
The wind smelled of wild flowers and car exhaust As I sat on my porch waiting for you to arrive.
Full of smiles joy and candy
You pull up in your car and spin me around with promises at 14, 
that one day we would be as famous as fred astaire and josephine baker.
I am still dizzy with anticipation.
Spinning like all little girls do when in love.
Waiting for you to show up for our encore performance.
That afternoon my innocence stretched
and pulled into the shape of a
woman’s heart.

I was never allowed to see you again.
You didn’t want me to.
You didn’t know I had old wise eyes
no hospital bed, no four letter word,
no sickness could ever define or contain you.

The phone calls shook our house daily.
The sound of the ring made the butterflies shuffling inside my stomach begin to return their cocoons.

I was losing you and couldn’t tell anybody.
Suddenly, Joseph was an angel. An urban legend. A myth.

A man inside my dreams I’d made up inside my head.
Not the tall brown curly haired man with arms as wide as oceans.

I begged my family to let me see you.
Why has Joseph become a secret?
Why can’t I visit him just because he is sick?

The day Joseph died.
I lost my breath.
I ran outside to my porch to ask God where the air had gone.
I danced alone for hours pretending he was holding me in the air flying me through the living room with ease.
Then the truth.
*		*		*
Finally, I was told of Joseph’s condition.
There were rumors of trips to LA and wild parties, 
Because, of course, in the 80’s no one in the Midwest could contract HIV.

There were no walks, or candlelight vigils or multi-colored quilts to warm me When Joseph died.
There wasn’t even an open funeral.
Our family was ashamed of their son
didn’t want anyone to come. Including me.
They forgot that Joseph’s life
made the world better.
His full, beautiful child-like smile lit up rooms&hearts& Sunrays battled for his light.

After that week I never wanted to be an adult.
I wondered how many died in silence and how many still do.

I write so their lives are not in vain.
This poem is for New York, Detroit, Chicago, Atlanta, San Francisco, For survivors around the US.
For Zimbabwe, Botswana, and South Africa.
For the more than 28 million people living with AIDS in Africa.
For the 10,000 that died this morning.
For the survivors, the truth-tellers, educators, organizers, and activists.
Who aren’t ashamed
of a hug or sharing a meal
or providing medical care to someone with AIDS.
For the children born with AIDS who must fight for every breath.
Today we walk with Joseph’s wind in our heels with the names of millions in our stride.

I hope we walk loud so no one else dies in silence 
Walk hard enough to shake the earth like Shango 
Walk outside the boundaries of neighborhood, 
of country, Of gender, of sexual orientation, of race, of generation, of reflection, 
Walk past the idea of not my son, not my daughter.
Walk an inch closer to being better humans.
Walk so no one else learns about AIDS
The way I did.
Without protection. Inside a whisper.

Because every grave needs a flower.
Every survivor has a story worth celebrating.

And this one is for you.

Encore Joseph, Encore.

My love for him was strong.
They all thought it was so wrong.
The feelings we felt were not accepted.
But they were rejected.
They were not ready.
For the love that we kept steady.
My love for him was strong. 
Even if it was so wrong.

-0-

TATTERED
Saharrah

Not the pants, of course.
What's tattered is the trust.
Once given, keep it.
Once broken, stained.
Like a seal that's tampered.
Like a paper -- torn.
Mine was worth keeping.
But was thrown away.
After a long time, now I'm finally deciding to take my heart away from you.
Damaged. Wounded. Bruised.
Along with the trust was my heart.
Tattered.
Like the pants I'm wearing.
Like the pain I'm keeping.

Oh wouldst that I
were to be
A steaming cup
of creamy tea

excitement builds
as kettle boils
as small spoon lifts
from within the foil

and sugar added
but not too much
slightly sweet
a feather's touch

whip the whirlpool
and spiraling milk
creating echoes
of light brown silk

A savored moment
not speedy drink
many philosophy born
tea time to drink

not chemical high
or dopey upper
just china round
a lovely cuppa.

Adrian Glasgow

-0-

SUMMER BREEZE HOW DOES IT PLEASE THE MIND THAT MAKES ME BLIND IN THIS SUMMER BREEZE. 
THE SECRETS THAT ARE NOT TOLD WHILE IT MOLDS INTO YOUR SKIN AND MAKES IT AS THIN AS A PEICE OF PAPER BLOWING IN THE WIND THE SUMMER BREEZE.
WHILE THE WIND CALLS THROUGH THE THICK LIES IN YOUR HAIR.
WHILE YOU HAVE TROUBLE BREATHING THIS AIR.
THE SUMMER BREEZE IS BLOWING MY LUCK AWAY AND LEAVING BAD LUCK. 
WHILE IM SITTING HERE UNDERNEATH THE PALM TREES. 
WHILE I MAKE IT LEAVE MY BODY.
HOPEFULLY THE SUMMER BREEZE WILL END AND I WILL REGAIN MY LUCK AND MY REAL,SUMMER BREEZE.

Fighting over Brad Pitt
(This is a fictional poem)
Randy Johnson

Demi Moore decided to dump Ashton Kutcher and now she wants Brad Pitt.
But so does Lindsay Lohan and they were having a fit.
They went at it and they were clawing, punching, and even biting.
These two busty ladies really were fighting.
I came along and told them that they shouldn't fight over Pitt.
I told them that he's not worth it.
They both looked at me like I was some kind of a nut.
They stopped fighting each other and then they kicked my butt.
They put me in the hospital and I'm depressed.
If I ever see any other women fighting, I'm going to mind my own business.

RODENT'S CYCLE OF LIFE
BY SHEILA ROSE MONTGOMERY

It waits in the gutter.
People walk with liquid speed.
There is dirt and stench on it's fur.
Nails are sharp as knives.
It waits in the gutter.
Cars pass like giant boxes.
Quickly it jumps out.
It runs on the black pavement.
As the street becomes clearer, it runs.
It waits in the gutter.
Without hesitation it eats a peanut shell.
Another rodent enters the space.
Too crowded, it watches the cars pass by.
It runs back to the original spot.
It waits in the gutter. 

 Dream
~Emily

why does darkness catch me when i am on two feet why does the lonely wind roll through the burning heat

when will the crow stop its sorrow
will the sun really come up tomorrow

does the moon really hide
or is it waiting by the sea side

why does the world really fight
for this is not the secret of the night

when the valley comes to an end
will it curve up another mountain bend

does a dog yelp in the night
because of a lonely fright

paws creep on the wooden floor
a creak a a whimper opens the door  

why is hope frightened and run
when will the moon waken the sun

why must the cold wind bite
why does bravery hide at night

when will time stop its game
and let me return to the dream from which i came

-0-

Translator in Low Spirits
by George Trialonis

Dear Adriana – old lady from the days of yore – In rain or shine you and I and many more 
Live to toil in pain over many a work and chore:
You peddling flowers from door to door,
And I set the meaning of words spoken and writ to explore.

Some day, dear Adriana – be it far or near it matters not – 
The ferryman shall carry us over to the other shore, To the land where pain is pain no more, 
But a garden long and wide as far as the blind eye can trot, 
Where words are wrought to flowers that never rot.

Land's End
       by Jameel Heath

Walking west beside Orion,
scattered time along the road,
time to stop and roast the toad,
rhyme of time along the road,
see the glory riding high,
like the story in my eye,
like the clouds go floating by,
while Maria sits and dies,
tied to ground, makes no sound,
a thousand stories were forgotten,
yet somehow now there found,
this quest seems never-ending,
to this orb for now I'm bound,
a silent clown walks here beside me,
at the crossroads we build our mound,
beside this path grow no grass or flowers, the only scenery there is stars and space, but something there is beautiful, cuz beneath all I see It's face, and I think I wear my final case.

Lord we laughed and drank
We tore that joint up
Every Tuesday night.

Flashy cars on bourbon street
The steel and the concrete beams.
Lying on a city night.
I thought I saw you through smoke and haze Yesterdays dream- Tomorrows ghost You know how it goes.

You told me you found love,
That you were playing house
Coffee cups and  no more wishes-
From the queen of happy thoughts.

But here stands Romeo.
In the night where you know him best.
Locked up with no key
No memory
Stolen fear and wishful thinking.

In the city where you left me
Standing alone
With silky lips and eyes that cut through you

You were so young
To innocent to kiss
To wild to call my own.

And you liked to disappear in the music
Would smile when you thought no one was looking 
Cause you were just to cool to smile when you wore your hair up.
Then years pass 
All of Gods children have to grow up.

Rayham DeLioncourt

OVER AND OVER
Kathy J Anderson   	
Pantoum Sonnet #1

Over and over, I hear you
Knowing you can never see me
Nor speak of love without a shew
Recalling weakness didn't flee

Knowing you can never hear me
Not able to communicate
Recalling weakness didn't flee
So much time passed, each time I'd wait

Not able to communicate
For all the words that we then shared
So much time passed, each time I'd wait
Propriety dashed hope of care

For all the words that we then shared
Propriety dashed hope of care

-0-

The Dandelion Seed
Bronwyn Taljaard

A downy globe of dandelion seed
From its earthly bonds now freed
Softly drifted on a thermal breeze
Floating high above the tallest trees

Ever upward in spiraling flight
To a place of breathless height
The elfin parasol continued to rise
Softly touching otherworld skies

Somewhere ‘twixt heaven and earth
began the journey towards re-birth
And slowly downward began the fall
To answer Mother Nature’s call 

-0-

 I had a dream; it was this year plus five. 
 We had our chance to stop poisoning the sky.
 But we failed, our greed would lead the way.
 Our selfish greed would prevail.

 I had a dream; it was this year plus one hundred.
 Mother Nature was taking her revenge.
 Ice caps melt and oceans flood.
 Temperatures rising, its hell on earth.
 The living has started to envy the dead.

 I had a dream; it was this year plus two hundred.
 Our children’s children did not come.
 There are no birds to sing a song.
 No more trees and no more plants.
 A flowers beauty long since gone.

 I had a nightmare that might come true.

Raymond G Blais