Daily Archives: December 23, 2016

Over Neon Horizons by James D. Casey IV

I am not a silent poet

Mysterious leviathans
Walking on water
Just faces in the crowd
Under the influence of
Mind altering substances
 
Brain cycles seeking
Institutionalized revenge
In a doomed
New York minute society
 
It’s a dead man’s party
For the men without hats
Dancing to sociopath
Choreography
 
Only ghosts lost 
In the cold of the crowd
Will ever know tears 
Are a language
That few understand
 
Or by watching
A timelapse sunrise
One can shake off
The cemetery blues
 
As their secret language
Reveals ridiculously subtle
Mushroom cloud foreshadowing
Brought on winds of change
Over neon horizons
 
Bringing an end and
A new beginning
To a deathcore hipster song
Like a most important chord
The Flatted Fifth

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Whiskey and Popcorn by James D. Casey IV

I am not a silent poet

We live in a void
Crossed between hell and
The digital world
 
Television screen faces
Closed caption thoughts
Our rulers have antennas
In place of horns
 
Everything is on fire
Crashing and burning
But all we can see 
Is what we’re fed
 
The underbelly reality
Is far worse than it seems
Things they don’t show us
Terrible and unforgiving
Driven down
Hidden behind coding
Pretty 1’s & 0’s
 
It’s all in the way
You look at it
I guess
Ignorance is bliss
After all
 
I just hope
There’s plenty of
Whiskey & popcorn
For the season finale

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Old Ghosts Still Breathing by James D. Casey IV

I am not a silent poet

What a time to be alive
Riding on the bullet
Shot from the brink of 
Destruction
 
Some hoping for it
Praying even
 
Screaming until blue in the face
Fearing for the future
Of our children
Yet no one hears
 
Money for bombs
But empty pockets
For education and food
 
Same old song and dance
One step forward
60 years back
 
Twisted values built
On shoulders of hate
And fear
With bigot ideals and
Misogyny values
 
Religious wars
Skin colors
Foreign policies
The list goes on
 
Old ghosts still breathing
They just own new faces
Wanting to police the world
Trying to walk backward 
Into the future
 
Division tactics
False fucking flags
Home brewed terrorists
 
The media propaganda
Is the real sleeper cell
In an Elysium reality
 
The problem isn’t lack of religion either
It’s lack of empathy for fellow man

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Fern by Mike Gallagher

I am not a silent poet

Dromáda,

Day of the Wren.

I pick a hart’s- tongue fern

On its leaf are hieroglyphs

Dark brown gnarls that bear

A message more ancient

Than script or scripture

Than language or dialect

Than ogham or rune.

 Etched before

Stone-age drawings

Before Torah or Toath

Before religion or writing

Before Greece or Rome

Before philosophy

Before theology.

Before Adam.

It tells of

Survival, of renewal

Of harmony, of balance

Of beauty, of tolerance.

Writ by nature,

It asks

When will Man

Learn to read?

..

Mike Gallagher is an Irish writer and editor. His prose, poetry, haiku and songs have been published worldwide. His writing has been translated into Croatian, Japanese, Dutch, German, Italian and Chinese He won the Michael Hartnett Viva Voce competition in 2010 and 2016, was shortlisted for the Hennessy Award in 2011 and won the Desmond O’Grady International Poetry Contest in 2012. His collection Stick on…

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