Just the Other Day. Peter Waugh

                                                Just the Other Day

What…

what… whatever was I doing?

Whatever was I doing before I got so lost?

Before I lost my way…

Where…

wherever was I going?

Wherever was I going?

It was only just

the other day…

(time tunnel)

There was something…

’why I came here,

what I came here to do

There was someone…

’had to see ’em,

but I came to meet – who?

There was something…

’had to tell ’em

what did I have to say…?

There was somewhere...

some visit to pay

but then I…

I just lost

lost my way…

Before the rain began to fall

a voice in the lightning spoke,

the thunder uttered the final call,

we scampered as the storm broke.

Someone somewhere needed me,

now who, who could that be?

Seek an answer,

ask a question –

What did you want to know?

Fetch a doctor,

find the patient –

not much longer to go…

Bring the map here..

’have to get there…

someone calling your name…

There was somewhere

you were meant to stay…

before you…

you just lost

your way…

Collect the gold of every season,

watch leaves fall from the trees,

pick the flowers in the garden,

play magic shells on the beach.

Bring it all back to the one who needs you,

now who might that be? Who?

There was something…

why we came here,

what we came here to do

There was someone…

’had to see ‘em,

but we came to meet – who?

There was something…

’had to tell ’em

what did we want to say…?

There was somewhere.

’had to visit

but then we…

we just

lost our way

Where were you when the wheel veered?

Where when we lost our way?

Seeking shelter, you came in here,

the dark voices gently say.

Bring it all home to the one who needs you,

now who could that be? Who?

Seek an answer,

ask a question –

What did you want to know?

Fetch a doctor,

find the patient –

not much longer to go…

Bring the map here..

’have to get there…

someone calling your name…

There was somewhere…

you were meant to stay…

before you…

you just lost

your way…

©peter waugh,

vienna, 23/26 may 2012

They found a carnival worker. Jared Schickling

They found a carnival worker

on their roof, the night had just begun

allegedly assaulted

he heard the sound of thunder

According to Beanblossom News he

goes outside

is tea-bagged from the roof

and sees the hairy ass enter his home

She said she saw him pull

a tv from the wall strong

as bull, you might assume

rubs kids clothes on his face in a boy’s room

You couldn’t stop him

he defecates in the house

masturbates

and dodges bullets

Zero. Luc Fierens

It was a beautiful day today. Jared Schickling

It was a beautiful day today.  The sky was blue, the air warm and the sun bright. 

Driving home from yet another crappy workday, I stopped at a traffic light.

As I waited for the light to change and was tired of watching cars

rush around in a hurried chance of getting somewhere they needed to be,

I glanced up at the bright blue sky of my vast sunroof.

I starred at the wispy white clouds that looked like cotton strung across a background.

Sitting at the intersection starring at the sky seemed like an eternity.

And I didn’t want it to end.

It was inviting and comforting.  It was like the beauty of the universe smiling at me.

Just before the light turned green and my euphoria ended I tilted the head back.

Even further and the gaze caught the sky further behind me.

As I did I noticed something.

The building where I work sits in an area that is notorious for geese.

For some strange reason they hang out there all year long.

While most birds fly south for the winter, these geese lazily stay in the same place throughout

the seasons.  They make nests in our window wells and planters.

They lay in the middle of roads and sidewalks.

They complain to passers by.

And they sit on top of cars parked in the parking lot as if they were placed there

in your living room.  And with geese comes the poop.  I was enjoying the beautiful

view of nature’s glory

and there in the way was a slathering of it

between me and my view of the sky.

The light changed and the tragic started to move again as I drove away

and had a thought.  That poop daringly clinging to the slick glass of my sunroof

was like the negative thoughts that tend to plague me

and ruin the view of my life.

“Don’t let getting shit on ruin your view on things”, I thought.  I decided

that the negative, defeating, and draining thoughts that tend to come into me

were like this.

The beauty of the sky hadn’t changed.  Getting shit on has just gotten in the way of

me seeing it.  The beauty of life never changes either.  It’s just the shit on the brain

gets in the way of me seeing it.

So when it hits, I know that it is just shit in my eye and once I remove it,

the view will be excellent. 

…as if you were urinating from the wrong side. Jared Schickling

…as if you were urinating from the wrong side

violent with little warning

tremendous emissions

sense of relief at making it

but feeling ill

about the release

so severe that the splatter

would remain

on your stuff

none of this was pleasant

one must understand the factors

responsible

the desired consistency is formed

in the intricate web

of fluid and transit time

minus ingesting

bacteria viruses toxins from undercooked meat

week-old potato salad

what was small could secrete

large volumes a deluge of fluid

coupled with brisk transit

the delivery of large amounts of liquid

to premature contents under pressure

the effect of stress is widely known

and the new news was

its complex independent

array of fibers

this autonomous

“second brain”

surgically removed

contracts accordingly if fed

from one end it had

a mind of its own

Blood Lyrics. Fiona Sampson

Blood Lyrics

from the Tokharian

1.

They set the table under the tree:

I saw your hunger and was ashamed.

I covered myself with words and silence

to break the line

from your mouth to mine.

Exile blackens your tongue with knowledge,

your black pupils are ravenous for my hunger.

Every day

in the oven of your mouth

you burn and raise me –

daily bread. 

I taste of ash.

Eat me.

2.

When you put your hands around my neck

I didn’t know

whether I was large or small.

My bones flew out into the universe

and began to sing –

a scatter of small birds.

Did you kill me

or love me?

Night rises from the earth.

Always the same night

with its claws at my stomach.

3.

You place your world between my teeth.

I take it with care –

this instrument on my tongue                                          

beautiful steel.

Your words bridle me.

Where are we going?

Into pain that breaks

       every bone in my face?

Moving your words

quietly, you fill my mouth with world –

bright, bitter coin!

© Fiona Sampson