Street roots., September 12, 2014, Page 14, Image 14

Street roots
Sept. 12, 2014
State of Affairs
b y S teven R M ille r
Hate branded on bis right hand in crude ink
Love on his left
Deaf to the pleas of those who flee his wrath—
A bankrupt sold with no place to go
You do the math
With love left as a backhand thought
Ought the world be surprised when they stare hate in the eye?
They are though despite their own neglect
Lack of respect for their fellow man
A rubber band pulled taut by needs and desires that push the stakes even higher
Still
The “pop” that haunts the 5 o’clock news
The way all senseless deaths do
Shocked at 5, senseless by 6, forgot by 7
Do you really feel you deserve heaven?
Grey
b y Ron S a n fo rd
There’s a stillness in the air that is foreboding,
The wind takes a rest as the sun maneuvers through the translucent clouds of grey
I am transfixed, daydreaming of a utopia which I may never find.
But in my mind, I can have it; if only for a moment
I can slow my breathing even more to the point of minimal existence.
Set of 3
b y W illia m H o lm e s
“on the porch”
on the porch, a svelte templed woman mends
with heavy byes, though tfullips and calm laden needle
an intricate stitch with affectionate thread and soothing knots
by her side with perfect sutures which time will dissolve
“well”
silence emanates, seeps through a sullen demeanor
brackish lungs churn pallid flesh
coal crescent under every nail
fates gaze cross at dross achievements
steeled affliction of necrosis dreams
“of the iris”
sprawling void of hope
content with so much sorrow
frightfully composed
Every sensation has been turned on by a power greater than myself; in a word, God.
God, here l am, not watching the clock, not questioning your motives.
I am a sponge with the utmost of humility»
Not fearing the unknown, but appreciating the gravity of the moment
I am lost but aware
The cycle of life is moving so slow that is on the cusp of being dormant,
In a controlled state of hibernation.
Waiting for the- sun topeak again amidst a slurry of colors
Warm colors bathed in heavy heavy-water,
Where I am I don’t care to know
I am at peace with what I cannot comprehend
Genesis Redux
b y D h a rm a B u m
The first man
Urban and wild
The hum of traffic
The music of the city
Rivers of asphalt
‘ Canyons of concrete
This is the jungle
This is Eden
; Uiider sk i^ j>f wonder
We stand at the crossroads
, With Infinity below our feet
As we wiggle our toes in a dream.
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