Rain

Rain

 

On the shore of evermore the armies march to war

A terrible scene that we’ve seen many times before

For God country and king the united voices sing

Doom death and destruction the fruits they bring

 

May the heavens open let it rain

Can sinners be forgiven let it rain

A baptism of fire ample pain

Life mysteries that none can explain

Let it rain let it rain let it rain

 

A mother’s weeping bitter tears flowing as a stream

Her son’s a casualty and thus dies the dream

She clutches a photograph he’s in his uniform

How many will perish in this devilish dark storm

 

May the heavens open let it rain

Can sinners be forgiven let it rain

A baptism of fire ample pain

Life mysteries that none can explain

Let it rain let it rain let it rain

 

Businessmen with greedy minds clutch coins of gold

Don’t you know that long ago their souls they sold

Fluent in lies it’s no surprise the words they tell

They promise heaven on Earth bringing only hell

 

May the heavens open let it rain

Can sinners be forgiven let it rain

A baptism of fire ample pain

Life mysteries that none can explain

Let it rain let it rain let it rain

 

And the child is innocent pure as a dove

And the child is innocent secure in love

The tender shoot they pollute with deceit

A wicked world always to compete

 

An innocent man there was in some distant time

Nailed to the cross telling the truth his only crime

Sacred saints recorded his words in a holy book

The profits of today say amen and never look

 

May the heavens open let it rain

Can sinners be forgiven let it rain

A baptism of fire ample pain

Life mysteries that none can explain

Let it rain let it rain let it rain 

GREAT BOOK OF SONG LYRICS

GREAT BOOK OF SONG LYRICS

A Martian Stole My Blueberry Pie

A Martian Stole My Blueberry Pie

 

By John Kaniecki

 

I set out coveting Venus

But just between us

I had the concern

Of getting a red burn

From the sun’s glare

So great was the scare

That I turned tail toward Saturn

Oh the lesson I would learn

We were in the asteroid belt

When my legs felt

As if they were going to melt

So there in the midnight high

I baked a blueberry pie

It was sweet and complete

And looked great to eat

Well I had a skeleton crew

Numbering few

I did not have a second thought

And in my folly I was caught

For come passing Jupiter’s moon

I checked upon my pie

And sure as the sky

Somebody did consume far too soon

My delicious desert

And boy did it hurt

I examined the large man from Titan

He looked guilty as sin

But it didn’t make sense

And I could produce no evidence

Then I saw the Martian’s teeth

They were blue underneath

So we charged him with treason

And for no good reason

He was evicted into deep space

Where he vanished without a trace

The moral of this fable

Is don’t leave a blueberry pie

Unattended on a table

A Day's Weather a great book for children!

 

Peace on Earth

 

Peace on Earth

 

By John Kaniecki

 

My wish for Christmas

Is peace on Earth

Wasn’t that the promise

At our dear Lord’s birth

 

For peace on Earth I pray

We need it to survive

Join with me today

Help keep the dream alive

 

Peace only comes from Love

Not from guns and war

Do you know where I’m coming from

Become part of the cure

 

God in heaven wishes us well

We are His children one and all

He Loves us more than we can tell

Join the cause of peace, heed the call

 

My wish for Christmas

Is peace on Earth

Wasn’t that the promise

At our dear Lord’s birth

enter the poetic world of John Kaniecki 

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Psycho

Psycho

 

You can tell he’s gonna win

Cause there’s magic inside his grin

And though he holds no aces

He bluffs with different faces

While up his sleeve to ease the pain

Is a gram or two of good cocaine

For sure he’ll have a woman tonight

If she don’t put up too much of a fight

His name is John that we all know

But we like to call him Psycho

 

You could call him no good

Even perhaps a punk or a hood

But I say in all likelihood

Psycho is just misunderstood

 

Sure he was once my brother

I was amazed and fooled by his cover

But beyond the smile full of pride

I saw a small child hid deep inside

Oh yes he played the game oh so well

He never let on to his inner hell

Always laughing toking a joint

With fluid language, he proved his point

But he was so empty and hollow

He never cared about his tomorrow

Perhaps one day he’s gonna grow

But still we call him Psycho

 

You could call him no good

Even perhaps a punk or a hood

But I say in all likelihood

Psycho is just misunderstood

 

Psycho

Do you know

It’s true

I love you

We split apart

It hurt my heart

But I still say

We had a good day

Friends before

Perhaps pals once more

I can’t say though

Oh Psycho

 

I wonder if you have grown

Maybe you got kids of your own

I’d love to see you correct your child

When you were once so crazy and wild

Will you play the part of the hypocrite?

Or are you gonna break down and explain it?

And if they ask and they want to know

Will you say that you were once Psycho

 

You could call him no good

Even perhaps a punk or a hood

But I say in all likelihood

Psycho is just misunderstood

Check out my book of song lyrics "Without The Music"

Piggy, Piggy, Piggy

Piggy, Piggy, Piggy

 

Piggy, piggy, piggy nice and fat

Fine overcoat a black top hat

Goes to the theatre looking so fine

See the whole farm wish it was mine

 

Piggy, piggy, piggy eats his feed

Gobbles on up more than he does need

Only thinks about fat number one

Won’t be nothing left when he’s done

 

Piggy, piggy, piggy wants some more

Got a wife, a mistress and a whore

It is very hard to fill the cup

When you can’t keep the gosh darn thing up

 

Piggy, piggy, piggy has no friend

People are just a means to an end

Darkness lives inside of his black soul

His only dream is complete control

 

Piggy, piggy, piggy speaks with lies

Never tells the truth, he never tries

Changes his story to fit the times

Never admits to his evil crimes

 

Piggy, piggy, piggy slaughter day

So much evil now it’s time to pay

Piggy, piggy, piggy time to stop

You’ll really make a nice pork chop

Check out my book of song lyrics "Without The Music"

"Resisting Arrest" Poem by Alex Phuong

Resisting Arrest

By Alex Phuong

Uniting uniformed unity

You and I defy the sky

Team work and collaboration

Up to personal discretion

Civil Rights

Civility

Minorities against majorities

Stick to the status quo

But should we...?

Really?

Defy thy stars

And seek new avenues

Harness the power of creativity

And merge sense with sensibility

"Utopia" was conceived by Thomas More

But all must still must strive for more

For he was A Man for All Seasons

Arrests might be criminal

But people cannot be subliminal

If they want to break free

Listen to words of wisdom from me

“Know thyself, be thyself, harmoniously”

Short Biography: Alex Andy Phuong earned his Bachelor of Arts in English from California State University-Los Angeles in 2015.  He was a former Statement Magazine editor who currently writes about literature, film, and culture.  He has written film reviews for more than one hundred motion pictures for MovieBoozer, and his writing has appeared both online and in print.  Alex is a fool who dares to dream, crazy as he may seem. Here's to the fools who dream!  His movie review profile is Alex Phuong, Author at MovieBoozer.

"All Lives Matter?" by Raymond Nat Turner

All Lives Matter?

"Any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in Mankind; 

And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee." 

- John Donne 

Two celebrities died this week

Pundits pooled barrels of ink coast to coast;

Kleenex flew from shelves; and

Facebook filled with philosophical wealth;

“So sad” trended, looped exponentially…

123 Palestinians were

systematically slaughtered…

Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…

A moment of silence— 

70 years…

© 2018. Raymond Nat Turner, The Town Crier. All Rights Reserved.

"TWO STAIRWAYS" by Bill Cushing - Contest Entry

TWO STAIRWAYS

by  Bill Cushing

The first greets those who promenade

through the foyer to a sunken

living room; its steps—wide with

carpeted tread—ease beneath gilded panels

lined with portraits of staid patriarchs

long dead. Bright red lips brush fair cheeks,

besitos de cultura alto,

as these elegant guests parade

through the living room past a massive

dining table and walls affixed

with innocuous ceramic buttons,

doorbell fixtures to summon the help

from the kitchen hiding a second staircase:

steep, jagged, and above all concrete.

Servants—rough hands wrapped in skin darker

than the mahogany furniture

they rub to a high shine—trudge between floors

carrying the weight of meals, loads of laundry,

flutes of lemon water, and whispered curses,

triggered by constant buzzing commands.

Meanwhile, quiet worms of hate burrow, deep

yet imperceptible, into their hearts.

"My Father, at 92" by Anne Higgins - Contest Entry

My Father, at 92

by Anne Higgins

At two o’clock today he declared

“Well, it’s time to go.”

Where?” I asked

Where?” my blind and deaf mother asked.

“Home.”

”But you are home.” we said.

“You’ve been living here eight years,” I said.

“since you were eighty-four.”

My father, now unsteady on your feet,

you don’t remember your location, your wallet, your keys,

but you do remember

when I ran out in front of

oncoming traffic one day,

after kindergarten.

You were on the other side of the street.

You said it was because I was

already nearsighted

and no one knew it yet.

I recall

it was because

I didn’t notice the oncoming traffic –

All I saw was you,

YOU, I saw clearly,

and still do,

standing on the other side of the street,

waiting for me.

"That Bird" by by Luke Knutson - Contest

That Bird

by Luke Knutson

I look at the sparrow, its

brown wings snuggled

beak opening only for the occasional chirp

sitting plainly on the dying autumn tree above me

and think

“damn,

that bird

doesn’t need to worry about the SAT

or its significant other

or its social status

or its parents

or its weight

or its grades

or its clubs

or its face”.

And I

keep on walking.

The coming winter

I see

that bird

on the ground,

still.

dead of hypothermia.

"On Exit Number 4" by Sergio Ortiz - Contest entry

On Exit Number 4 

By Sergio Ortiz

I have seen deflowered Ken dolls
between the impolite gloves
of guys in jock-strapped bathing suits.

And fervent regulars with shiny cigarette cases
more than willing to be treated like sluts.
I have seen the Maserati’s of the rich and famous
on exit number 4 to Ocean Park
buying mephedrone from a drug dealer
in skinny Wranglers.
I have also seen shinny rings
stuck to condoms full of

sildenafil citrate powder
caught on genuine snake boots.
What did you expect from art?
Dreams can’t answer that question,
they are just like the dead child

we carry inside. And I swear I've seen,
-because the lyrics are foreign to dreams-
on a body pumped with anabolic steroids,
a tattoo that says:
"No room left for emptiness."

"Proudly Black" by Agnes Oyedokun - Contest Entry

 Proudly Black

by Agnes Oyedokun 

Burnt and looked upon by the sun
but with wisdom not to be compared.
Big lips with hair ;charred
but with unexplainable beauty

Caring hearts and attitudes
are found in our large multitude
Local in everyway;proud of our way
Our iner mind is forever gay

Very proud we are of our colour
The truth we speak in all honour
Our delicacies one will greatly adore
and in a few seconds one will devour

Our local drums ginger our inner spirits
And make blue;our laughing eyes
Our hearts dance with excitement
at out festival's commencement

Colonized,shamed and bittered
Love remains divine
We fought for Our guard
Freedom makes it taste like sweet wine

Our forefathers compel us
not to be worried and be restless
The pride in us is breaking loose
for we are proud Africans

Diversified culture,united in peace
They crave our departure
so we leave in ease
Proudly dark, completely black!

"Mr. Pineapple" By Kanyell Gray - Contest Entry

Mr. Pineapple
By Kanyell Gray

Mr. Pineapple you say ?

Oh I remember that fruit.
I remember the sweetness he gave Grandma’s Ham on the Holidays.
Mmmm mmmm mmmm.

The memories you brought back when you mentioned his name.
Ohh Mr. Pineapple; how sweet you were.
Grandma introduced you to us a long time ago.
But, I ain’t seen you around in years.

Well, not since they put you inna can.
I remember seeing you in that can and smiling.
It was like I was being reunited with a lost cousin.

I wore you around my finger, and you sang to me. 
You sang the  same songs that grandma sung while she cooked.
Ohh how I miss the way you danced on that ham.

You danced like folks use to  danced to those jamming jazz tunes, way before grandma’s time.
I wish I had the rhythm you had, how jealous I became.
Mr. Pineapple where you stay ?
Can I visit ?
The way you brought the family together;
I miss it.

"Stainglass" by Ero Kai - Contest Entry

Stainglass

by Ero Kai  

What shape is a scream deafened inside the hollow

What color the mourning terror across the moor

Stainglass surrenders to the dawn & lays across her lap

Her heart withdraws with the echo’s timed collapse

A curtain drawn, a moment of stillness suspires

The shape climbs the parapet and cradles its crave

Sharp tongues pepper and salt the barren air

A whistle, like a hanging weapon, tempts and threats

Still she hunts in her mind for the words that will make

A fondness swallow an abyss

---

Trauma cannot live by moonlight

The canals are somnolent and still

Inside a candle pulses with the courtship

His empty thrusts, nonetheless devoured by her

Grief-stricken moans. This is sick potion-making,

The only real sorcery available, the serpent of empty

Lust grabbing the tail end of morbid decay &

Ringing an empty promise from the jaws of time.

It is senseless, and yet it will be felt with all the senses.

At last his head drops like a shamed executioner.

---

It is August in a field of wild grass and the boy charges

Through like a summer wind

His energy is scythe-like, he reaps and sows

Joy and sorrow in the other children with deliberate intent

There was never any father & so he devours & his appetite

Never understands hunger or humility

He climbs onto the golden rocks and looks down on the valley

And his heart sings to create enough destruction to hide his shadow

To hide what he does not know, to hide what he fears

The shape of his mother’s resignation as the sky

Walks the light to bed and blows the candle out.

---

He has dealt death and he does not know why.

He has set fire to the defeated because he was paid for smoke.

He shamed women because he was curious how long it would last.

He mocked fate like it was an absent father.

As his caresses became more callous than care

His wife’s downturned body reminds him

There is a crease in his confidence and a tattered page

Reveals itself, bookmarked by someone he long forgot

Shining like the sun, it cracks the midnight dark

It fans the stainglass and reveals a moment

A pure tear, the dew of a love wider than time

Waiting, just waiting, oh without you.

---

He climbs the steps, a pained echo in his heart

Finally he recognizes the tether that has been

His entire being and life a cast silver thread into the dark river

He stoops, he kneels, he comes to his paws on the stone

Looking out his breath comes out like clouds from a tiny god

But there is no earth below, only stone slabs, cold & maternal

They push against him, pleading him to go higher

Was it the only direction home? Seeking a precipice that seemed to disown him?

A rabble gathers below, they motion to him and start to rise

As if from an underworld of his creation, his fears and hatreds

Their voices start to crow and crackle, they thunder & shine

& before they arrive his head falls, as if surrender was divine.

---

Time herself crosses that field of wild grass

Time and all her sunken regrets, carrying a bouquet

Heavy is the head that wears the crown

Heavier still the hand that picks it back up

Heaviest the grave where nobility is etched

Seasons change, yet she remains still, locked in eternal embrace

With what?

What it is to have, best understood in loss

What it is to lose, best left unsaid

And yet those unspoken words, like memory’s child

Will bury her time into the cool dark ground.

What shape is a scream deafened inside the hollow

What color the mourning terror across the moor

Stainglass surrenders to the dawn & lays across her lap

Her heart withdraws with the echo’s timed collapse

A curtain drawn, a moment of stillness suspires

The shape climbs the parapet and cradles its crave

Sharp tongues pepper and salt the barren air

A whistle, like a hanging weapon, tempts and threats

Still she hunts in her mind for the words that will make

A fondness swallow an abyss

---

Trauma cannot live by moonlight

The canals are somnolent and still

Inside a candle pulses with the courtship

His empty thrusts, nonetheless devoured by her

Grief-stricken moans. This is sick potion-making,

The only real sorcery available, the serpent of empty

Lust grabbing the tail end of morbid decay &

Ringing an empty promise from the jaws of time.

It is senseless, and yet it will be felt with all the senses.

At last his head drops like a shamed executioner.

---

It is August in a field of wild grass and the boy charges

Through like a summer wind

His energy is scythe-like, he reaps and sows

Joy and sorrow in the other children with deliberate intent

There was never any father & so he devours & his appetite

Never understands hunger or humility

He climbs onto the golden rocks and looks down on the valley

And his heart sings to create enough destruction to hide his shadow

To hide what he does not know, to hide what he fears

The shape of his mother’s resignation as the sky

Walks the light to bed and blows the candle out.

---

He has dealt death and he does not know why.

He has set fire to the defeated because he was paid for smoke.

He shamed women because he was curious how long it would last.

He mocked fate like it was an absent father.

As his caresses became more callous than care

His wife’s downturned body reminds him

There is a crease in his confidence and a tattered page

Reveals itself, bookmarked by someone he long forgot

Shining like the sun, it cracks the midnight dark

It fans the stainglass and reveals a moment

A pure tear, the dew of a love wider than time

Waiting, just waiting, oh without you.

---

He climbs the steps, a pained echo in his heart

Finally he recognizes the tether that has been

His entire being and life a cast silver thread into the dark river

He stoops, he kneels, he comes to his paws on the stone

Looking out his breath comes out like clouds from a tiny god

But there is no earth below, only stone slabs, cold & maternal

They push against him, pleading him to go higher

Was it the only direction home? Seeking a precipice that seemed to disown him?

A rabble gathers below, they motion to him and start to rise

As if from an underworld of his creation, his fears and hatreds

Their voices start to crow and crackle, they thunder & shine

& before they arrive his head falls, as if surrender was divine.

---

Time herself crosses that field of wild grass

Time and all her sunken regrets, carrying a bouquet

Heavy is the head that wears the crown

Heavier still the hand that picks it back up

Heaviest the grave where nobility is etched

Seasons change, yet she remains still, locked in eternal embrace

With what?

What it is to have, best understood in loss

What it is to lose, best left unsaid

And yet those unspoken words, like memory’s child

Will bury her time into the cool dark ground.