POETRY: Viscid Vine of Lies by Jazelle Handoush

Viscid Vine of Lies
By Jazelle Handoush

What a tangled web we weave of words.
With, or what we say
is woven in the lies you tell
of sparkling sticky sorries.

Sorries so silly.

So sticky saddened sweet.

I might trace a finger from the center so small
Watch it whirl from inside out
Until too large to handle its own weight.

And so it

fails
        and
                  falls.

My fingertips are viscid with the tangled vines of lies.
My ears long bled with beliefs.
My tongue has told of chances past.

Last chance.
Unweave your web.
Or lie in your lies.
What a tangled web we weave.

Copyright 2011 | Jazelle Handoush

POETRY: 'Flutter' by Jazelle Handoush

Flutter
By Jazelle Handoush

Flutter flutter. Flutter flutter.

Thrive in darkness. Find solace in it. Survive.
The stars are a path towards home. An unknown.

Flutter flutter.

All is night.

Flicker flickk.

A dazzle in this space. For an instant only. The brightest, even beyond the unreachable moon.

Flutter flutter…Flicker.

Again. Stunningly in shines. Almost longer, the light.

Flutter. Closer. Reaching closer still. But unknown.
Spots cover the gaze. Blinded by it. Was it here? Or farther still?

Flutter. Flick.

Beyond the brightest star, morning’s sun, it shines. But no on again, off again.
It remains.
It burns.
The single hope in the lone of the night.
It kills.

Flut—.

Lamp’s light. A stricken death.

Flicker.

Copyright 2011 | Jazelle Handoush

POETRY: 'Transcendence' by Larry Knight

Transcendence

By Larry Knight

How can we define the invincibility of humanity?

Is it in the deeds of the brave, their actions

Marked by the unselfish concern of heroism?

Is it in the indefinite nature of our fragile selves,

How we hide sorrow behind facades of strength?

Is it in our tears, a deluge never quite washing away pain?

How can we show resilience in baleful hours,

In days, months, and years marked by hurt?

We embrace life, its promise, the existence of joy,

Moments defined by degrees of elation

Then juxtaposed to the heartache of a bitter truth:

We are mortal.

Our flesh and bone and blood

Are not immune to the certainty of temporality.

Our breath pushed from lungs into space,

Never to be reclaimed, is without substance...

But not our love. Not the altruism we possess,

our unyielding commitment to life,

the light in the eyes of our children.

We are not promised immortality,

Only the assurance of remembrance accompanying

Our selflessness, our faith, our fealty to love.

Despite the limits of race, or gender, or wealth,

Or religion, our acts define us;

they encircle earth inspiring lives unfamiliar,

illuminating souls shrouded by misfortune's pall,

making us as vast as forever.

Copyright 2011 | Larry J. Knight, Jr.

'A Chaldean' by Ana Hagins

You captured my heart

And kept it as yours.

My countenance fell

Like Jerusalem did to Babylon.

And I lamented like

The prophet, Jeremiah.

For I had none to comfort me.

“I am gone into captivity

Under affliction

And hard servitude.”

My heart finds no rest

Because “my persecutor

Overtakes me in dire straits.”

You gave my love away to other women

And yet I let you in.

But you destroyed my temple

Taking every golden treasure

I had to offer, and giving it to idols.

At one point in time I reigned

As a “princess among the provinces”

Of your heart.

But now “I have become a slave.”

My mother “sent warnings”

But I “despised her words

And scoffed” at her teachings

Like Israel did God

As you transformed from my lover

To my enemy

And annihilated the sanctuary of my soul

“Till there was no remedy.”

Quotes from Jeremiah 12

'In Jesus' Name' by Ana Hagins

I held their hands,

But I didn’t feel the power that they felt.

He prayed ever so fervently

And everybody else agreed by saying,

“Yes.” But to what?

I watched them hold his hand,

That still man’s hand,

My granddaddy’s hand.

I watched tears pour

Down their cheeks, but

I did not cry.

Did that make me less passionate?

“Dear Father,” he said

“please let your man servant make it

Through this trying time.”

And again, they said, “Yes.”

But I didn’t. He lay awake in

The bed but I knew it hurt to do so.

He always tried to remain strong for them

But remaining strong only made him

Weaker. They prayed for God to give

Him rest. That was what he needed.

Rest.

I said, “Yes” to that unconsciously,

For I, myself, prayed for him to find rest.

And they prayed for his life also.

Why his life?

I saw their contradictions

And I resented them for their indecisiveness.

They prayed for God to save his life,

But his life does not bid him rest.

Which do they want? Can’t they see he can’t have both?

He prayed to himself fervently

Not for his life, but for relief.

They’d been praying for months but

God did not lend them his ear,

Let alone a healing hand.

But they continued to pray nonetheless

As people reached forward laying

Their hands on him as if they

Possessed a healing power that God himself

Didn’t.

“In Jesus’ name,” he said.

“In Jesus name,” they echoed.

“In Jesus’ name,” he said louder than before.

“In Jesus’ name,” they called.

They called for Him, but he didn’t answer.

As they began to depart, grandmamma stopped

And said, “Get some rest, honey.”

I ran my hand over his face to shut his eyes.

“Yes,” I said. “In Jesus’ name.”

'Lady Like' by Ana Hagins

They surround me,

leaving no room to think of the

nextstep,

let alone

breathe.

I reach out

but no one takes my hand.

I cry for help but they can’t hear me.

“Can anybody hear me?”

I yell to them,

but they stand there and

watch.

Watch as if this is the day

they had been waiting for,

my down fall.

Now I’m trapped in a glass box.

I can see them

but my cage is ever so delicately

tinted that no one can see

inside.

I bang.

I scream.

I scratch.

I yell, but they can’t hear me.

The tears don’t just fall

they pour down my face,

but none come to comfort me.

Well, at least that’s how it is in my head.

I sit here quietly watching what’s going on,

Smiling and laughing when I’m supposed to

because its lady like to suffer in silence.

'Speak' by Ana Hagins

They are tortured by fear,

as the knowledge of those

who believe in the

Status of majority rule

pours into the minds of

the innocent. They

object to their theories

knowing that it can’t be right.

Intimidation has their voices

chained to the walls of silence,

so they become hoarse temporarily.

Yet understanding that in order to

bring the world out of darkness

they must be the light.

But they remain captives voluntarily,

listening to the cunning words of

intelligent fools, knowing that

these chains could be broken

if only they would

speak.