Drake

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We drove around the city, frantically
Fearful of every bump in the road
Looking for a clinic, a sign
For anybody that could save his life
Nobody answered, harsh lights
A Holiday night, the time
Acted against us.
Wounded past eleven
Missed the mark by minutes
We were left helpless,
With no other choice
Everything was closed
Except for his wounds,
So we went back home,
Grabbed gauzes and strings
Mercury and adhesives
In our quiet desperation
While our hands trembled
Medicine dripping and spilling.
When we finally grabbed
A good look at his wounds,
We could not believe
What we were seeing.
Skin ripped from the neck, stomach, back
All exposed flesh, meat like brains
Profusely spilling his blood.
A bite that tore
And revealed his insides
On his right hind leg
Deep enough to fit
A thumb and knuckle in.
What I felt that night
Was difficult to describe.
God likes playing jokes,
We can blame ourselves,
All we like, or we can learn
From mistakes, and avoid
Our same suffering.
Then the time has arrived
To flip the switch,
Civilization was founded on
Cooperation for survival
We learned this was the best way
To avoid heartaches and pain,
To protect the life of our loved ones
Truth be told, to protect ourselves
From our misery, when we face Death
Knowing our loved ones will no longer be around
To cheer us up, to drown the loneliness
Of an ‘I’ left as a witness
Accursed consciousness,
Learn to save yourself,
Before you can save others.
A lesson that is hard-learned
A nobody that couldn’t operate on
A being who dedicated himself to them,
Money cannot cloud its worthlessness,
Money cannot buy courage.
A will to save another’s life
To bring them back alive.
So civilization, trust in vets
Have faith, while God persists
To teach you traumatic lessons
Demanding sacrifices,
Which should not even exist.
Everything is perfect as it is.
Chaos’ distress,
Money becomes worthless,
When you cannot buy treatment
For family, close to death.308025_10150359534022497_1021527237_n

Where every moment left
Is spent collecting bloodstains,
On your clothing, from holding
Him close. Warmth,
To make his last moments
A comfort through his torment.
If only I had the knowledge,
To stand up to your reign,
To had stitched your open wounds
If only I had the courage,
To heal your wounds
I’m sorry life demanded it to be you.
If I had listened to the barks,
If I had checked to see you outside,
Then I wouldn’t have had to die,
I wouldn’t have had to die.

Alan Valle

Melpomene

“It is the best to have loved and won,
Second best, to have loved and lost”
All that lies destined will follow.

Christic Ethylene,
Pure Mind of the Bodhi,
Melpomene, a soliloquy
For her Mystery.

On Human nature,
Emerson alleged:
“A man is god in ruins…”
We are drawn to the Flame.

A void, between the compositions of Helios.
Shiva, ‘o Lady Babylon, to whom we sing our praises.
‘Oh Say’s among men, she stood as a Titaness,
Zeus’ thunder, with frivolous fascination,
An abysmal suspicion of her broken beauty,
A maternal affection, for their father’s creation.

Gnostic Gospels speak of thy progeny
“Within me I carry the Seeds of Christ,”
Parthenogenesis and an old regal clock-tower,
A Sanctuary in the Earth, by the hour.

A bloodied cub the Hyenas prayed to devour
Daunt, “so fragile” – mere words could tear her apart,
She remained a child in secrecy – a deity in art
“The flower in the crannied wall,” of Lord Tennyson.

Spirit of the Divine, see the World through her eyes.
Marie the Mother, or the Lover of Light.

Olympus intervened and took her Soul from me,
A stoic’s shell in the midst of the Great Plains,
A shout rang through the clouds, loud; “You’ve taken my life,
My joy, my wonder, fry my flesh with your thunder!”

And in his visions, Oceanus visits
The titan, a giant of a frightful countenance,
The hero would face a fate worse than Dionysus’,
Skull, bones, skin, limbs, remain as bloodied crumbs,
To surrender thy flesh, in a feast for titans.

At the face of your fate, choose not to decay.
Awaken and slice open the bowels of the beast.
Emergent products, the titan regurgitates.
A heroine has conquered the monster.

Kin of Jonah – poets sail for the Holy Mountain,
Yet they stay to dwell in purgatory,
To claims conduits to Father Sky and Mother Earth,
Through tribulations, They bring us a message.

“Our future is ominous… rests in ruins,
Behemoth and Leviathan sleep lightly,
Set your sights on the World, from Rio to Thebes,
Count the spirits, as they succumb.

“Leviathan and Behemoth lie sleeping,
Our future, how ominous, rests in ruins,
Your work is not yet done,
Count the spirits, as they succumb.
Set your sights on the World, from Rio to Thebes,
Before the great tribulation and the Seventh Seal
Use your wisdom, to prepare them on their journeys.
Mother and the Celestials will rest to heal.”

Elena Leon Barbot