POETRY: 'Gold Standards' by Kabriel Moorehead

Gold Standards
By Kabriel Moorehead

All I ever wanted was a chance to shine in the sun
An ambitious request clouded by a childhood fantasy
How marvelous it would be to gleam in the spotlight,
To dance in the lap of luxury and extol my accomplishments
Even if only for a solitary moment
Little could a young child realize
As dreams of gold glimmered inside his eyes,
And became hardened into precious diamonds,
By the divine pressure of hard work,
That there is no joy to be relished in a singular spotlight
Rather that the fulfillment comes from the journey,
And the souls reached along the way.
Experience is its own reward
One that this young child often took for granted,
By neglecting the trials of his youth
With a determined and misguided focus on the future
Only when he reached his destination did he realize
That soaking up the rays alone
Held no meaning if there was no one to watch
We as human beings are not judged by our accomplishments
But who we accomplish with

Copyright 2013| Kabriel Moorehead

POETRY: Soul 2 Soul by Reggie Drake

A wise man once told me.
How you gon chase a dream,
If those running shoes aint yo size.
No picture this,
Summer 07,
Dad hands crack to kid telling him lies like,
This right here will,
Help us transcend the skies and survive
Because believe me I do hear the rumbles and grumbles
In your gut,
So heed my every word
This,
Transient prison becomes his forever
Forever interlocking him into a system where we aint meant to survive,
Perpetual genocide becomes his lifestyle,
Gunmen pull switch hairs
As bullets tear through the air
Puncturing hearts that grew cold,
When the pain they hold is buried
In those,
Little holes nestled in the soul
Screaming from the raptures to be let free,
Then descends from heavenly heights
To plummet in hells pitfalls,
Make no mistake,
The soul does waver and quake
When you chase a dream disguised
As a silky silhouette,
Resembling a figure thats not you,
But someone new,
Someone whos shoes indubitably cant fit your feet
That kid works nonstop on the corner without any sleep
Whats he to do,
Dad tells him
Im doing all this for us,
For you,
Meanwhile baby sheds silver tears crying on the stoop,
He's hungry,
But daddy isnt giving him any food
Kid works and works to stay alive
Slapping fives in transactions,
Manufacturing happiness
To repair a broken spirit.
He wants to stop,
But dad doesnt listen
Dads dreams become his
HIs dreams dont matter
They dont see eye to eye
So they cant see Soul 2 Soul.
That was a snapshot,
Summer '07
Now picture
Winter '95
Momma workin 9-5
Pushing her daughter to achieve Olympian heights,
She is her catalyst,
The mystical magician who abracadabras her wishes
To grant them better lives.
Them tight ballerina shoes squeeze the life
Outta her aspirations
As she twirls to the rhythm of her souls cacophony
That tutu,
Was way to,
Tight to allow her to break the cycle
Her,
South African roots are fastened to the tree of ideology
That manifested the ideals of Desmond Tutu,
And she too,
Desires change because,
That dance floor gets lonely,
Its crowded with her despair
Her mother remains blissfully unaware
As her intricate dance patterns choreograph her heart
And exposes her soul
How she gon chase a dream
If her mothers running shoes dont fit her feet
How she gon chase a dream
If those running shoes,
Dont allow her to, grab hold of the tiny thought
The microscopic dream residing somewhere in the soul,
They dont see eye to eye
So they cants see Soul 2 Soul,
She speaks to her,
The words flying off the pages of her heart,
Only to hit the margin
When emotions bombard
She prays let grace descend and suspend the evergrowing madness
In the midst of verbal confusion
Contusions grow in restless souls
Mom loves the limelight,
Shes infatuated with freedom
Greed divides the love
But if you flip the reciprocal
Love divides the greed
And paves a way to the cementary that has buried all her needs
She digs her broken heart
And the dislocated spirit
She finds her moms conscience
NOw they both can see the difference
The sum of the parts equals the whole
Now them soles fit them shoes
You know
Them little niches at the bottom of the shoe
Those things that give that extra spring to reach the proverbial stars
And chase the inescapable dream that was once deemed impossible,
Now she can take that ballerina shxt,
NOw he can put that crack down cuz when you see Soul 2 Soul,
Souls do merge and converge upon impact
Impactfully letting us proceed beyond that impasse,
A wiseman once told me,
Know thy brother to
Know thyself
He said,
Know thy brother so
My can leave self and self can be us
Cuz souls are connected like spirit cords cordially inviting dancing hearts to ethereal ballet
Dreams dont have to coincide
They can run together side by side
Thats how we roll
Soul 2 Soul
Soul 2 Soul
Is how we roll
Let em know
Let em know
We are parts,
Of the same whole

POETRY: 'Stardust' by George Abraham

Stardust
By George Abraham

“We’re all made of stardust,”
he said.
And what a peculiar thought to arise
Here
In the world’s most powerful city,
Washington, DC;
Here
Where our nation’s story is engraved in
Sculptures as if history is
Trapped in time- forever living
Through triumph and tragedy,
Through war and peace,
Through economic boom and bust;
            It is here
Where immigrant protesters march upon capitol hill
Demanding their rights.

And the sculptures watch,
Remaining immovable
But yearning to speak.

For, they realize a divine truth,
Yet the mortals do not.
We are stuck in a country
Where people like
Johnny Moneybags can go to Harvard
Because daddy paid to build their latest library,
     But immigrants cannot get even the most
     Basic of college educations despite
     Hard work and diligence-
Where Taylor Swift can live her life
Making songs of all the boys that have
Come and gone; Breaking up with guys
is as periodic as sunrise and sunset;
     Yet, we hear talk of gays everywhere
     Being bullied into suicide
     Despite that their love is even more genuine
     Than that of this beloved star;       
Where people are arrested on sight
At our airports
For greeting incoming relatives
In Arabic,
     Because, in their heads 
     If one bad person speaks Arabic
     Obviously all people who speak Arabic must
     Follow suit…

It is easier to own a machine gun
Than it is to afford a college education
Here;
It is easier to find someone who has memorized parts of the bible
Than it is to find someone who can locate China on the globe
Here;
It is easier to find a McDonnalds
Than it is to find a book store
Here

In the God-blessed United States of America.

And as these sculptures
Fall
watching this country descend into turmoil,
they yearn to speak the divine truth-
a truth that is not even too complex-
the only criteria to understand this truth is
Giving a damn
About someone other than yourself-

“The ground you walk on-
It’s dust.
And so are you.

So is everyone.”

Copyright 2013| George Abraham

POEM 30/30 (2013) #8: "Art Project" By Larry J. Knight, Jr.

“Art Project”
By Larry J. Knight, Jr.

She found herself within
soft brush strokes.

Her canvas was more than
a surface for creating; it was
an outlet, a medium with which
she discovered her soul’s depth,
a slate upon which she hid
emotions too raw and too painful.

Colors coded her sentiments,
vibrant hues brought
meaning to the hurt
wrenching apart
her young, innocent,
unguarded spirit;
she was lost in suffering.

Her canvas saved her.

Painted lines were life lines,
pulling her from a cold abyss
of fear and confusion and sorrow;
freeing her from imprisoned misery,
allowing youthful purity to beam.

She was enamored with true art,
how a soul in turmoil creates,
how it illumines, how it heals;
but liberation is temporary,
the canvas is quickly filled,
the paint soon dries, the picture
becomes fabricated reality,
and hurt returns as waves do
crashing on windswept shores.

(c) 2013 | Larry J. Knight, Jr.

POEM 30/30 (2013) #6: "At Three" By Larry J. Knight, Jr.

"At Three"
By Larry J. Knight, Jr.

Imagine yourself at three,
young, still believing in magic,
no disillusionment or doubt,
still wide-eyed and fond of smiles,
still enamored with sky and sea
and sun; still in love with innocence.
Those beautiful, idyllic days,
the ones celebrated in verse
and remembered in lamentations
issued by sage men on stoops,
they can always be reclaimed.

They are not myths.

They are not legends conceived
on the metal typewriters
of fiction authors; they are real.

Imagine yourself at thirty
or forty (or fifty), your world
altered beautifully by the absence
of marginalized thought, or
your eyes transfixed by beauty.

Your childhood yearns for freedom,
craves second chances at life;
it cries out in theme parks and fairs,
dimly lit movie theaters prompt
familiar aches for enchantment;
it secretly giggles each time a balloon
breaks free and soars and wafts
with invisible wings in summer.

Imagine yourself at three,
wonder and wishful thought
directing grown-up endeavors,
fascination and curiosity
at play in dusty, grey minds;
envision youthful smiles,
gracious, glowing laughter
and light and love
then begin to live.

(c) 2013 | Larry J. Knight, Jr.

POETRY 30/30 (2013) #5: "Love, always" By Larry J. Knight, Jr.

“Love, always”
By Larry J. Knight, Jr.

-for A.D. and R.K. (on April 6, 2013)

It is a divine thing
to love.

The intricacy of unquestioned feeling
found in a union of two souls in love
is akin to a blessed miracle; it is
something special,
    something perfect
                absent of enmity.

We cherish its fire and tenderness,
pen eloquent verses and songs
meant to praise its existence,
we celebrate its power,
its ever elusive meaning
in a timeless question:
do we live for love,
or does love live
through us
in actions and words
and vows made within
God's presence?

Our answer
yields love.

There are moments, hours
of our lives, fragments of time
woven into the mundanity
of our passing days,
where love is a compass
directing us like two
aimless ships through night,
safely towards horizons
filled with promise,
filled with hope,
with clarity.

In love
we see ourselves;
faults crystallize,
want yields to concession
and we find peace.
No explanation offered
can fully describe how love
transforms us,
how it strengthens
our better selves.

We are the children of love,
entranced by its capacity
to illuminate;
passion may engulf us
temporarily, but
love is permanency.

Love is vital.
Like air and bread
and water,
like a mother’s warmth,
a father’s lessons,
like a brother’s fidelity,
a sister’s confidence
and a child’s smile,
like two best friends
embarking on life's journey,
love is divine.

(c) 2013 | Larry J. Knight, Jr.

POETRY: 'Cubic Zirconium' by George Abraham

“Cubic Zirconium”
By George Abraham

Perhaps it’s like pulling stones off of earrings,
Childishly,
Thinking they’re diamonds-
Gazing with naivety and
Caressing each square inch as if there’s
Something special here,
Only to realize that, in truth, these gems are
Cubic Zirconium-

Or perhaps it’s like finding a lost sibling
After searching for hours amongst a
Crowd of thousands of people
And feeling relieved, yet
Angry
At the same time since he was
Stupid enough to run off when you
Weren’t expecting it.

Or perhaps, it’s like getting to the center of a tootsie pop
Just to realize all you have left is a
Damp wad of spherical chocolate taffy-
Just as the wrapper advertised.

Or perhaps, it’s less playful-
Perhaps it’s like searching through the trash
On a rainy day
Only to find your soul in the midst of the
Rot and decay-
Perhaps that is what writing poetry is like.
Because, sometimes, the poet’s search for
Truth
Isn’t easy to conquer;
Sometimes, the truth is just too obvious, too cliché;
Sometimes it is unable to be grasped;

And Sometimes, the poet wanders
For days and nights
Only to realize there is no diamond to be found;
Just cubic zirconium.

Copyright 2013| George Abraham

POETRY 30/30 | #4: "THE UNIVERSE'S CHILDREN"

"The Universe’s Children"
By Larry J. Knight, Jr.

We are the sons and daughters of stars,
together in the black tapestry of space,
wandering, searching for causes
that define our existence.
To us, life is coupled
with a certain mendacity;
it prevents us from acquiring truth.
Knowing this,
understanding our place
among the dying pinpoints of light,
we resort to time honored customs,
deciding on whims made from air
and opt to stitch patterns
crafted from a thread spool of folly...

(c) 2013 | Larry J. Knight, Jr.

POETRY: 'At a Beach' by George Abraham

At a Beach
By George Abraham

I’ve had forever on my mind;
Walking so far down the shoreline-
            I’m lost
For, I’ve gone farther than I expected
In such seeming little time-
That once enormous lighthouse
Now becomes a speck in the background;
            I lose myself,
A bit,
My foot scrapes across the porous sand
As I forget that I will
Lose
Everything I engrave in the sand,
Even the shells I leave behind;
How, one day the tide will
Wash away these ephemeral impressions-
            But what to come?
What shall happen once my footprints all
Fade
In the tide’s voracity?
What of the sand, the sea,
The lighthouse?
Will the tide consume all,
Rendering this beach a
            Flood of regrets;
            Flood of lost memories;
            Flood of inconsequential impressions?

Or will remnants survive-
            Will the shoreline continue its infinite
                        Gentle roar?
            Will the sand maintain its
                        Impressionability?
            What of the shell fragments left
            Behind by the thousands of beach wanderers?

Perhaps the wind will take over
Forming one word out of these
Infinitesimal fragments of shell:

Continuity.

Copyright 2013| George Abraham

POEM 30/30 (2013) #3: "Cellist" By Larry J. Knight, Jr.

PHOTO BY ANDREINA SCHOEBERLEIN

"Cellist"

By Larry J. Knight, Jr.

Focused eyes,

bow in hand

glides across strings,

the universe responds...

celestial wonder ensues;

we sit transfixed.

(c) 2013 | Larry J. Knight, Jr.