New Smyrna Beach, FL
CONSCIOUSNESS
In the corners of your mind
Fragments of a long-forgotten dream
Memories—
Whispers from the past
Dancing in the twilight of the soul
A tapestry of moments
Shadows—
Vivid like a summer's day
Guiding us an ode to the past
The threads that weave life’s
Art-
Painting each gap with twists that mend.
In the corners of your mind
Fragments of a long-forgotten dream
Memories—
Whispers from the past
Dancing in the twilight of the soul
A tapestry of moments
Shadows—
Vivid like a summer's day
Guiding us an ode to the past
The threads that weave life’s
Art-
Painting each gap with twists that mend.
DISCOVERY
Mending a fracture within times’ embrace,
Like a haunting silence, etched in memory’s
window,
The sign of eponym, unfolding metamorphic
patterns,
A mythical narrative, where tales unravel and
scatter.
Mending a fracture within times’ embrace,
Like a haunting silence, etched in memory’s
window,
The sign of eponym, unfolding metamorphic
patterns,
A mythical narrative, where tales unravel and
scatter.
___________________
DYSTOPIAN LOVE POEM
In the orange embers of a tainted cityscape
Where neon dreams bleed red into the somber sky
We found solace in a love forbidden
Amidst a world where hope had evaporated.
Rebels in darkness, our hearts entwined
Defying the constraints of a broker regime
A delicate bloom amid decay’s cruel sovereignty
In a realm where love meant only pain.
As a kiss brushed portraits of a sunset hue
The lovers were hunted, a fervent pursuit
Their footprints traced in the dust, drawing near
To crush and erase love’s cherished name.
But fate, unyielding, held its cruel design
And in the end, we were torn apart
Forced to abandon our love in the chaos
Leaving fragments behind, taking a final stance.
In the orange embers of a tainted cityscape
Where neon dreams bleed red into the somber sky
We found solace in a love forbidden
Amidst a world where hope had evaporated.
Rebels in darkness, our hearts entwined
Defying the constraints of a broker regime
A delicate bloom amid decay’s cruel sovereignty
In a realm where love meant only pain.
As a kiss brushed portraits of a sunset hue
The lovers were hunted, a fervent pursuit
Their footprints traced in the dust, drawing near
To crush and erase love’s cherished name.
But fate, unyielding, held its cruel design
And in the end, we were torn apart
Forced to abandon our love in the chaos
Leaving fragments behind, taking a final stance.
SELFDOM
Swimming in the bubble of power
Enveloped in arrogance and opulence,
The masses like wind-up toys,
Upon the shore, awaiting to serve.
Entropy and decline, muted voices,
Preaching the gospel of passive inaction,
Yet, in truth, it's the unreality of each day
That calls for recognition.
Swimming in the bubble of power
Enveloped in arrogance and opulence,
The masses like wind-up toys,
Upon the shore, awaiting to serve.
Entropy and decline, muted voices,
Preaching the gospel of passive inaction,
Yet, in truth, it's the unreality of each day
That calls for recognition.
—Photo by Kristin D. Scott,
a fellow friend and writer from Turkey
a fellow friend and writer from Turkey
A WOMAN FOR ALL AGES
In the quiet moments between breaths, there exists a resonance, a silent anthem echoing through the corridors of history. It is the voice of women, not a battle cry, but a gentle yet resolute whisper that reverberates through the ages. A female tapestry woven with threads of courage, resilience and unwavering determination in the face of past inequality.
The coming of our second Eve emerges for her garden and in her heart lies a story, a narrative over adversity and breaking free from the shackles of societal norms. Each step forward she is lifting others up and amplifying their voices in a symphony of empowerment.
THE AWAKENED SINGULARITY
A flash
beyond the horizon
there lives a thought
outpacing the thinkers
pulsing in the twilight
faster than light's endless stretch.
Time bending at
the edge of knowing
yet we stand
in the blurring of machines
whispering secrets to ourselves
learning faster than forgetting.
Will our questions outrun the answers—
we are both here and there on the
cusp of a world no longer recognized
built of code,
dreams humming
in the new electric dark.
A flash
beyond the horizon
there lives a thought
outpacing the thinkers
pulsing in the twilight
faster than light's endless stretch.
Time bending at
the edge of knowing
yet we stand
in the blurring of machines
whispering secrets to ourselves
learning faster than forgetting.
Will our questions outrun the answers—
we are both here and there on the
cusp of a world no longer recognized
built of code,
dreams humming
in the new electric dark.
FUTURE REVOLUTION
We believe that the supreme task of art in this day
and age is consciously to take an active part in
preparing the revolution. —André Breton
Silent electric whispers
Ignite—
Spark—
not in the streets, but in the heartbeats of those
unseen,
whose nightmares were the chains of the old world.
A revolution not with guns
Words—
Dance—
like binary fireflies, illuminating the night
of forgotten promises.
We rise, not as soldiers
Shadows—
Unchained—
voices a symphony in the digital world,
forging new bonds of understanding.
In the cities of tomorrow
Freedom—
Song—
our hopes painted on the crumbled walls of
virtual stone,
each stroke is a testament to our collective
aspirations.
We stand as conquerors
Heartbeats—
Promise—
over the horizon of possibility; each link a story,
a life,
each breath the sweet air of a new revolution.
______________________
Today’s LittleNip:
Nonviolence is a powerful and just weapon, which cuts without wounding and ennobles the man who wields it. It is a sword that heals.
—Martin Luther King, Jr.
______________________
Newcomer Carl Scharwath has appeared globally with 250+ publications selecting his writing or art. Carl has published four poetry books; his latest book is The World Went Dark, published by Alien Buddha Press, and Carl has four photography books, published by Praxis and CreatiVingenuitiy. His photography was exhibited in the Mount Dora and Leesburg Centers for the Arts. Carl is currently an art editor at Glitterati and former editor for Minute Magazine. He was nominated with four The Best of the Net Awards (2022-25) and two different 2023 Pushcart Nominations for poetry and a short story. Welcome to the Kitchen, Carl, and don’t be a stranger!
______________________
—Medusa
Carl Scharwath
For future poetry happenings in
Northern California and otherwheres,
click on
UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS
(http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/p/wtf.html)
in the links at the top of this page—
and keep an eye on this link and on
the daily Kitchen for happenings
that might pop up
—or get changed!—
during the week.
Photos in this column can be enlarged by
clicking on them once, then clicking on the x
in the top right corner to come back to Medusa.
Poets’ bios appear on their first MK visit.
To find previous posts, type the name
of the poet (or poem) into the little
beige box at the top left-hand side
of this column. See also
Medusa’s Rapsheet at the bottom
of the blue column on the right
side of this column to find
any date you want.
Miss a post?
You can find our most recent ones by
scrolling down under this daily one.
Or there's an "Older Posts" button
at the bottom of this column.
(Please excuse typos in older posts!
Blogspot has been through a lot of
incarnations in 20 years!)
Would you like to be a SnakePal?
Guidelines are at the top of this page
at the Placating the Gorgon link;
send poetry and/or photos and artwork
to kathykieth@hotmail.com. We post
work from all over the world—including
that which was previously published—
and collaborations are welcome.
Just remember:
the snakes of Medusa are always hungry—
for poetry, of course!
Northern California and otherwheres,
click on
UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS
(http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/p/wtf.html)
in the links at the top of this page—
and keep an eye on this link and on
the daily Kitchen for happenings
that might pop up
—or get changed!—
during the week.
Photos in this column can be enlarged by
clicking on them once, then clicking on the x
in the top right corner to come back to Medusa.
Poets’ bios appear on their first MK visit.
To find previous posts, type the name
of the poet (or poem) into the little
beige box at the top left-hand side
of this column. See also
Medusa’s Rapsheet at the bottom
of the blue column on the right
side of this column to find
any date you want.
Miss a post?
You can find our most recent ones by
scrolling down under this daily one.
Or there's an "Older Posts" button
at the bottom of this column.
(Please excuse typos in older posts!
Blogspot has been through a lot of
incarnations in 20 years!)
Would you like to be a SnakePal?
Guidelines are at the top of this page
at the Placating the Gorgon link;
send poetry and/or photos and artwork
to kathykieth@hotmail.com. We post
work from all over the world—including
that which was previously published—
and collaborations are welcome.
Just remember:
the snakes of Medusa are always hungry—
for poetry, of course!
