Cracks In the Ceiling:

Visionarie Place is Freedom

tianjin-2185510_1280

The sun was stubborn as a mule,
around-bout evening I’d say go down already
but the more it’ would lite, tisk, tisk and burn to the bone
then around-about morning the sun feel real good
like a cold drink melting-stubble right off my chin.


Cracks.. rip nine, Skyscrapers rising, fire hydrants, and secret driveways, over policing poverty… somebody’s daughter, somebody’s river, somebody’s mule


some bone, some dish, some -late, some fall prey… round-about summer’s dying…~Krissy Mosley photo image by Pixabay.com

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Poëziebusdichter 6

ZICHTBAAR ALLEEN

Gerard Scharn

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Geboren te Gemert, 1946. Enige jaren gevaren (KM), gevolgd door een onrustig arbeids- en studieverleden, uiteindelijk als jurist afgestudeerd aan de Universiteit Tilburg. Werk van hem is onder andere gepubliceerd in Brabant Literair, Plebs, Lava, Digther, Meander, Gierik NVT, Nynade, Kluger Hans, Schoon Schip (Wassily ́s Frisbee), Ballustrada, Tijdschrif Ei, Het Gezeefde Gedicht, Poëziekrant en Tydskrif vir Geesteswetenskappe (Zuid-Afrika). Won in 2014 de Ongehoord! Gedichtenwedstrijd.

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vals!

je speelt viool zeg je
en voelt je zigeunerin
je speelt met verve
zwarte ogen
en wat Roma pop

ben je ooit vaginaal gevisiteerd
door geile douaniers
en teruggestuurd naar waar
je niet welkom bent
draag jij ook het lood
van een kampverleden
hoor je nog het
dichtslaan van de deuren
van de veewagons?

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Featured Writer: A.M. Torres

Creative Talents Unleashed

Sitting in her Cell

Sitting in her cell

she pondered her mistake,

the bars set her apart

she dwelled on her self-hate.

Perhaps she should have died

her heart beat as it ached

the ferry sounds forlorn

she’ll never catch a break.

No one feels her shame

her loneliness just hurt

no one seemed to care

destruction may now lurk.

Sitting in her cell

lonely as can be,

feeling all their eyes

shackled so they see.

Loneliness has rocked

the cell so very small

surrounded as it seemed

the ferry mourns so long.

Sitting in her cell

every sound from far,

confinement stilled her limbs

it is so very hard.

© A.M. Torres



14915347_10210758577789019_4066485259844464385_n About the Author

Ana M. Torres (A.M. Torres) was born in New York City on November 1970.  She is the author of the Child series beginning with Love Child which she published in 2011. It is…

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Featured Writer: Edilson Afonso Ferreira

Creative Talents Unleashed

Hidden Reality Show

No one knows, even dreams, what stories

have unfolded on these now empty rooms,

passions they have witnessed and secrets

forever buried within.

Comedies, dramas and tragedies, it looks

like Broadway seasons, but only staged

for walls displaying their pictures,

mute and discreet witnesses.

Unlike professional actors and actresses,

these ones took a point on anonymity, but

theirs is the true merit, for they presented

their roles live, without usual rehearsals.

You can believe they played a plot sleepless,

day after day, as well as, indeed, any of us.

© Edilson Afonso Ferreira


12-06-2009-141-2 About the Author

Mr. Ferreira, 73, is a Brazilian poet who writes in English rather than Portuguese, having been published in venues like Right Hand Pointing, The Lake, Spirit Fire Review, The Provo Canyon, Red Wolf Journal, Whispers, Indiana Voice Journal, Synesthesia, Algebra of Owls and some others. Ferreira lives in a small town…

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Snitch – Howie Good

Sartre Poetry

Snitch

After a few Guinnesses, I would have preferred to not celebrate. The world didn’t seem real. It was like everyone was just doing Tarantino knockoffs. The next morning there was a ruckus. A lot of people came. I was dumbfounded when they all danced. I often find that when I don’t carry a camera, I see great photographs. Just because we’re immersed in digital technologies doesn’t mean that we’re in touch with them. No one is safe anywhere. Over time, bad things will happen. They always do. We’re always going to be in this position of losing ourselves in crowds. Unless you really want to spark a fist fight, it’s kind of, “Keep it to yourself.” One man’s whistleblower is another man’s snitch. People are so coldhearted. It’s nurses, teachers, doctors, firefighters. They’re just another wild animal trying to make a living.

©  Howie Good

Howie Good, a journalism…

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