Border Babies She is crying for her mother The rictus of an existential grief Pulling her face into contortions In a tragedy of tears Tiny toddler arms stretched wide And shaking… How can Lindsey Graham See this child in pain…
“The Masai Mara Dreams of Vultures”- Poetry by Marius
Dust rises like a silted fog between the Serengeti plains and the mighty Masai Mara Wildebeests in mass migration, heavy-headed, spindly-legged Improbable and plenty, walk the beaten path in jeopardy Relentlessly, attended by the watchful lions, in turn followed By…
New Poetry
Cecil the lion: ‘We knew this is how he would die’ By David McKenzie, CNN Give Me One Of Them A dentist and his luggage arrive in Zimbabwe Cash and carry-on, pushing the buttons of privilege and pardon That his…
New Poetry
The River ran Yellow in Colorado (2015) When the river ran yellow past The outfitter’s shack, kayaks lined up Colorful, in Back They could smell it coming first Loaded with silt and clouds of poison A heavy-hearted river full of…
Painting and Poetry – Trophallaxis
“We have fed you all for a thousand years, And you hail us still unfed…” these Stark words of the old Wobbly song Still time enough now, a hundred years on. But more so, for millennia more (now) The tiny,…
Theocracy
Theocracy No disrespect to Detroit’s brilliant, Beleaguered, and recently drug-martyred poet – But Gil Scott-Heron was wrong, wrong, wrong. The revolution Has been televised And trivialized, Made almost antiseptic, it’s apocalyptic attempts Co-opted, contained and commoditized. Now showing, an exhibit…
Shadows
Shadows Sometimes when the paper holds a ghost before the colors touch the page, and shadows rise to the surface of collective conscience, and apparition fast-appearing whole like Venus rising in the foam or, Athena’s agile form Sword-swinging a surprise…
“Titanic” by Marie Mason
Titanic A hundred years of stories and it’s not enough To mark a date, They will dredge the blue depths And spare no expense. (not for charity, make a note not for Sudan’s needed grain, not Haiti’s medicine) But gain….…
Entropy- A poem by Marie Mason
(Entropy) What do you see In this Winter face? The imminent decomposition of the unbeautiful? Even so, even in that I see that all my pieces Have their own story. My hands have worked a brand of Entropy That is…
Marie Mason Poem for Nicaraguan Workers
Marie wrote this poem after hearing a story about workers becoming ill in Nicaragua from working on rubber tree and sugar cane plantations.
The Isle of Widows, Nicaragua
The heat rises, steam
Moves
With the breath of trees,
Into the air
Haunted eyes speak
Their questions of a mystery
The men of science come to study
This embarassing plague
This withering away
That leaves the widows wondering.
What is the science of oppression?