Author of The Crescent Stone, Good News for a Change, Sky Lantern and several other wonderful books!
Don't GoDon't goPleaseMy heart is screamingPleading in agonyMy brain tells meYou want thisMy heart agreesWanting you to be happyBut I'm selfishAll I can think ofIs my lifeWithout youHow can I stand this?A week not seeing youBrings tears to my eyesHow will my soulBear months of this?Time with friends loses sparkleNo watching the door for youNo elation the momentYou walk inThis appearsAn endless desertA hole in my lifeThat will only fillWith your returnHow will I breatheWithout your smile?My memory fadesI try to grasp fragmentsVideo clips of youThis dreaded amputationI hear them sharpen the sawNo!I cannot take thisHow can I let you leave?If your presenceBrings me to lifeWhat does your absence do?This killing blowHow can I avoid it?I don't want to beDead without youMy heart sends upA keeling wailMake this pain stopHeal my soulAll I see before meEndless stretch of nightsCrying myself to sleepRacked with sobsEmpty, lonelyDon't goPleaseCopyright 2005 Katie Hart.Originally published at Infuze Magazine.
PebblesLife starts outas a pebble in the street,Casually kicked alongby careless childrens feet.Then time goes on,children grow.That pebble one day becomes a boulder in the road.A man who can push bouldersis a man who is strong.That is, until the man seesthat the road is so long.An old man looks foolishpulling along a pile of rocks.He has more stonesthan minuets left on his clock.But from the sky,there will fall more stones.Your only hope is in the road,that it "might" lead you home.Dan Scouten 2002
Young Love=Dead Duck:In that house in PAthe pretzels and prayersand non-alcoholic beerleft a stench of burning rubber.I was a lambchop dummyon the red leather chiropractor's tablemy neck a drugged prisonerin the breathing neckholegetting footrubs (grease and white hair),eating soap, drinking scotch,masturbating behind the dry cleaning,massaging the loins of the old crippled nununder the rotting sweetmeatsof Buddha, Krishna, Christ and the Silent Master,their licenses and medals vibrating on the wallthen coming crashing down in punishmentcutting up the deaf silence.I'm making recordsof all thisto toast the doctors,the old menand me.
California, Part 1God, what happened?We all thought things would happenIn a certain way.With a boom boom boomOf a nuclear blastAnd the rice crispie crackle of an unknown fault,San Andreas’ sister.And then it happened, But with no warningNo boom boom boomOn day came and Oregon and Nevada and Mexico just looked… And it was gone.Gone?“Goddammit, it didn’t just sprout legs and walk away!”Well what if I told you it did?CinnamonGhoulj_gulbranson@Hotmail.com
what crazed eyes have already seenthe end of thingswet green eyed forest,the blood of birth and deathand the ever present possibility of dying aloneand in these last hoursthe rite of passagedancing on the edge of oblivionkiss the rain and taste continuityfeeling flooding over us like dyingadam firstname.lastname@example.org