Wayne Russell
THE PHOTOGRAPH SMILE THAT LIT UP A DARK WORLD
—Wayne Russell, Tampa, Florida
Her smile alone could light up this dark dark world,
yellow feathers in her raven hair, poised in mid-tribal
dance for eternity. Elongated beads that flow down her
turquoise clad torso and legs, like a porcelain river of tears.
All those that gaze upon this frozen moment in time, must
acknowledge; yet not over intellectualize (for pain is pain)
the searing hardships of her people. All those that gaze upon
this frozen moment in time, must know how her people have
persevered all injustices thrust upon them, by selfishness
and greed.
We can all learn something from the history of human
kind, from the atrocities to the genocides, they should have
never happened in the first place.
______________________
ROAD OBSERVATIONS #1
—Wayne Russell, Tampa, Florida
Her smile alone could light up this dark dark world,
yellow feathers in her raven hair, poised in mid-tribal
dance for eternity. Elongated beads that flow down her
turquoise clad torso and legs, like a porcelain river of tears.
All those that gaze upon this frozen moment in time, must
acknowledge; yet not over intellectualize (for pain is pain)
the searing hardships of her people. All those that gaze upon
this frozen moment in time, must know how her people have
persevered all injustices thrust upon them, by selfishness
and greed.
We can all learn something from the history of human
kind, from the atrocities to the genocides, they should have
never happened in the first place.
______________________
ROAD OBSERVATIONS #1
—Wayne Russell
The inconvenient torrent of words
spewing from wet wells of sorrow
thorns from a rose, dying on
midnight vines.
Politicians and rhetorical babble,
infinite as ocean waves caressing
white-sanded shorelines of heaven.
She blessed my psyche from the
strobe-lit forest of premeditated bliss,
yet sometimes still; Nirvana remains
anchored in the depths of a bourbon
and Coke.
______________________
The inconvenient torrent of words
spewing from wet wells of sorrow
thorns from a rose, dying on
midnight vines.
Politicians and rhetorical babble,
infinite as ocean waves caressing
white-sanded shorelines of heaven.
She blessed my psyche from the
strobe-lit forest of premeditated bliss,
yet sometimes still; Nirvana remains
anchored in the depths of a bourbon
and Coke.
______________________
ROAD OBSERVATIONS #2
—Wayne Russell
Lonely old homeless street dwellers
—Wayne Russell
Lonely old homeless street dwellers
reside on the corner of M.L.K. and Parsons.
The ramshacked old soup kitchen nourishes
The ramshacked old soup kitchen nourishes
meat and marrow of withered flesh and bone.
The homeless men’s sad eyes droop like
lowly basset hounds, baying the Mississippi
blues in smoky bars.
Manic street preachers are strategically placed
on highway 60, and are way too overdressed
in their Sunday best for this southern October
heat. Frantically they wave their signs and bibles,
fire and brimstone depart parched lips, while
megaphone voices yell out “Revelations is
happening now! Look all around you, for the
end is nigh!”
_______________________
BLOOD BREEDS BLOOD
The homeless men’s sad eyes droop like
lowly basset hounds, baying the Mississippi
blues in smoky bars.
Manic street preachers are strategically placed
on highway 60, and are way too overdressed
in their Sunday best for this southern October
heat. Frantically they wave their signs and bibles,
fire and brimstone depart parched lips, while
megaphone voices yell out “Revelations is
happening now! Look all around you, for the
end is nigh!”
_______________________
BLOOD BREEDS BLOOD
—Wayne Russell
As the cold heartless night saunters in once again, and I am left alone with black melancholic thought of 6’oclock news intrusion, it seems like the world stands on edge ready to implode, about to explode, east vs. west; hate breeds notoriety and bombs breed total annihilation.
Everyone hates the other and wants their head on a platter, “DEATH NOW!” Drawn up from the depths of religion and eternal strife, the lumbering giants of government Neanderthals and verbal rhetoric. Big brother is watching, and thinking for us too. Sometimes I think death seems the only logical escape from this beast of insanity, the one that is life.
So draw up your weapons, aim your canons; draft your spiteful dialog on the parchment of your choosing: Propaganda! Propaganda! Propaganda! Turn your plow shares into swords; we are animals baying for blood! Let's go storm the walls of normalcy, tear down these walls of complacency, to be at one with your God, or your God, or your God.
_______________________
As the cold heartless night saunters in once again, and I am left alone with black melancholic thought of 6’oclock news intrusion, it seems like the world stands on edge ready to implode, about to explode, east vs. west; hate breeds notoriety and bombs breed total annihilation.
Everyone hates the other and wants their head on a platter, “DEATH NOW!” Drawn up from the depths of religion and eternal strife, the lumbering giants of government Neanderthals and verbal rhetoric. Big brother is watching, and thinking for us too. Sometimes I think death seems the only logical escape from this beast of insanity, the one that is life.
So draw up your weapons, aim your canons; draft your spiteful dialog on the parchment of your choosing: Propaganda! Propaganda! Propaganda! Turn your plow shares into swords; we are animals baying for blood! Let's go storm the walls of normalcy, tear down these walls of complacency, to be at one with your God, or your God, or your God.
_______________________
MAD WORLD
—Wayne Russell
As the lines begin to merge
on yellow-lined highways of uncertain metaphor
the maiden fair is left desolate to
stalk black-ink night for all eternity.
Calm redemption woven
within the forest of dissuasion,
the children within us all
are left free to dwell undisturbed
—Wayne Russell
As the lines begin to merge
on yellow-lined highways of uncertain metaphor
the maiden fair is left desolate to
stalk black-ink night for all eternity.
Calm redemption woven
within the forest of dissuasion,
the children within us all
are left free to dwell undisturbed
for one thousand years unscathed.
Tear-stained faces are intertwined
souls of oneness, and rain gods laugh
on oceans bearing rage within its heart
of salt, incarnated madness bearing
testament to this world in rapid decline.
Tear-stained faces are intertwined
souls of oneness, and rain gods laugh
on oceans bearing rage within its heart
of salt, incarnated madness bearing
testament to this world in rapid decline.
—Photo by David Iribarne
—David Iribarne, Sacramento
Leave behind your fears
it’s ok to scream
all right to fall down
let it be felt.
Scratch your skin
let there be pain
it needs to be released
you can be hurt.
In the end, darkness can be settling
it can make you stronger
pieces come apart
there are times we don’t know
that it's “ok.”
Go away with yourself
find what you have been searching for.
At this time, your head may be spinning
not knowing where to turn.
Tears may come fast
let them, don’t fight.
Sometimes our world breaks
needs to be put back together.
I will be there to help you
do not face it alone
let go, let go, let go
so you can learn how to hold on.
______________________
BARE NECESSITIES
—David Iribarne
Sweet juicy plums
decadent strawberries
crisp grapes
red red raspberries
quenching watermelons
little blueberries rolling around in your mouth
wet pink peaches
soft bananas
succulent kiwis
crunchy apples
honey dew melons
pleasurable tangerines
lip-smacking cranberries
with all this
all that was left
was the skin and the seeds.
_______________________
TRANSPOSE
—David Iribarne
—David Iribarne
I used to be…
I am not that anymore
I am so much more
I am ten times better
than what I used to be.
I used to be….
Look better now
ready to face the world
stronger than before
more confident
happier than in the past.
Smiles come easier.
I used to be…
Feel more content
know I can do more
have more energy
and want to do more.
I used to be…
not ashamed anymore
wear what I want to wear
say what I want
more gumption and ambition.
I used to be…
I cheer more now
give myself more encouragement
and heed others who praise me.
More and More I do believe.
I used to be…
is followed by what I am now.
I recognize and am more aware
of what I am now
and what I used to be is
indeed what I am not anymore.
_______________________
Our thanks to David Iribarne, Taylor Graham, and to newcomer Wayne Russell for today's tasty fare! Wayne has been writing stories, plays, songs, and most importantly poetry for over thirty years now. His work has been published in Poet's Espresso, The Cannon's Mouth, 10K Poets, Rolling Thunder Press, Deep Tissue Magazine, amongst others. He used to live with his wife and kids in New Zealand, where they are all from, and now they have all relocated to his home state of FL; he was born in Tampa, FL.
And check out Medusa's Facebook page today: we have a new photo album from Sacramento's Michelle Kunert: Last Monday at SPC. Thanks, Michelle!
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Today's LittleNip:
TETRACTYS
That
not-yet
catalogued
prehistoric
fish evolved arithmetically perfect*
* now extinct
That
not-yet
catalogued
prehistoric
fish evolved arithmetically perfect*
* now extinct
______________________
—Medusa
Wayne Russell