Chloe..Across the Universe

Sometimes i feel like an alien in a strange land..can you relate?
I love people and friends are just that to me , friends-if you request me as a friend it would be nice if you read something I have written. I get requests from people I have not reviewed or vice-versa. I don't want to clog up friends with some who only want reviews.. but if you review my writing I am always happy to read yours and review.


Would you all send your read requests by pm , please. I turned the read request off but will read if you let me know . i enjoy reading here.. and everywhere..



I have had stories in my head since I was a wee lass lying in bed they would come, but in the morning they were dead..

I love to write, too bad I can't! I just throw my thoughts out there, here, wherever. I like writing stories or poetry with a message.. something the reader can think on.

I love music, of course it is poetry too , oh, and you can dance to it!

I am an advocate for children, animals, veterans, homeless.. I think America is ready for a revolution.

I believe in peace and love and putting myself in others shoes before I make a judgment! There by the grace of God go I...

Although my heart and spirit is light I also have a dark side of the heart....

I love words and my favorite color is purple. Violet and ultraviolet are nice words. Ointment , weird word. Love, great word, perhaps slightly overused...

I am not a good writer and I can take constructive criticism and even just an I don't care for this poem. Say what you truly think. I would appreciate your honesty.

Peace , Love
a few of the things I love
also
babies
animals
people
sun
moon
stars
oceans
purple
Holy One
Music
Donovan
Chocolate
All of you

Lets101 Quizzes - Fun Quiz

Lets101 Quizzes - Fun Quizzes

Please join our group if you like .. I try to make it interesting , 'try'... many very good writers to read and learn from ..






Look and Listen it is beautiful...


Arkansas Traveler (a violet love ointment) by Gomer Le Poet.. thank you for writing this sweet poem for me, David :)


I wanted to write a thank you note

to my friend with a golden heart

her words and passion for this world

retold by me are only a feeble start


with skilled pen she writes with wit

she writes with love for all

stories of ancient fabled worlds

and cries for political balls


she wants a revolution

not a battle of knives or guns

there seems to be room inside her heart

for all forgotten ones


music is her language

across the universe

she reaches out her hand

to touch us with every verse


the civil war makes her sad

as it should be for all

there is no understanding

of this wasteful wounded fall


my reaching out and thanking her

is just a word of pleasure

for all the great things she has said

her words I'll allways treasure


Gomer LePoet..
























































Talking About New Orleans
by Jayne Cortez

Talking about New Orleans
About deforestation & the flood of vodun paraphernalia
the Congo line losing its Congo
the funeral bands losing their funding
the killer winds humming intertribal warfare hums into
two storm-surges
touching down tonguing the ground
three thousand times in a circle of grief
four thousand times on a levee of lips
five thousand times between a fema of fangs
everything fiendish, fetid, funky, swollen, overheated
and splashed with blood & guts & drops of urinated gin
in syncopation with me
riding through on a refrigerator covered with
asphalt chips with pieces of ragtime music charts
torn photo mug shots & pulverized turtle shells from Biloxi
me bumping against a million-dollar oil rig
me in a ghost town floating on a river on top of a river
me with a hundred ton of crab legs
and no evacuation plan
me in a battered tree barking & howling with abandoned dogs
my cheeks stained with dried suicide kisses
my isolation rising with a rainbow of human corpse &
fecal rat bones
where is that fire chief in his big hat
where are the f*****g pumps
the rescue boats
& the famous coalition of bullhorns calling out names
hey I want my red life jacket now
& I need some sacred sandbags
some fix-the-levee-powder
some blood-pressure-support-juice
some get-it-together-dust
some lucky-rooftop-charms &
some magic-helicopter-blades
I'm not prepared
to live on the bottom of the water like Oshun
I don't have a house built on stilts
I can't cross the sea like Olokun
I'm not equipped to walk on water like Marie Laveau
or swim away from a Titanic situation like Mr. Shine
Send in those paddling engineers
I'm inside of my insides
& I need to distinguish
between the nightmare, the mirage,
the dream and the hallucination
Give me statistics
how many residents died while waiting
how many drowned
how many suffocated
how many were dehydrated
how many were separated
how many are missing
how many had babies
and anyway
who's in charge of this confusion
this gulf coast engulfment
this displacement
this superdome shelter
this stench of stank
this demolition order
this crowded convention center chaos
making me crave solitary confinement

Am I on my own
exhausted from fighting racist policies
exhausted from fighting off sex offenders
exhausted from fighting for cots for tents for trailers
for a way out of this anxiety this fear this emptiness
this avoidance this unequal opportunity world of
disappointments accumulating in my undocumented eye
of no return tickets

Is this freedom is this global warming is this the new identity
me riding on a refrigerator through contaminated debris
talking to no one in particular
about a storm that became a hurricane
& a hurricane that got violent and started
eyeballing & whistling & stretching toward
a category three domination that caught me in
the numbness of my own consciousness
unprepared, unprotected and
made more vulnerable to destabilization
by the corporate installation of human greed, human poverty
human invention of racism & human neglect of the environment

I mean even Buddy Bolden came back to say
move to higher ground
because a hurricane will not
rearrange its creativity for you
& the river will meet the ocean in
the lake of your flesh again
so move to higher ground
and let your jungle find its new defense
let the smell of your wisdom restore the power of pure air
& let your intoxicated shoreline rumble above & beyond the
water-marks of disaster

I'm speaking of New Orleans of deportation
of belching bulldozers of poisonous snakes
of bruised bodies of instability and madness
mechanism of indifference and process of elimination
I'm talking about transformation about death re-entering life with
Bonne chance, bon ton roulé, bonjour & bonne vie in New Orleans, bon

FLOWERS by Fabian G. Franklin

Among the stones on windswept rim

A fragile flower grew

Painted like dainty butterfly wing

Drinking the morning dew



Gossamer tendrils stretch from birth

Beneath the arid ground

Seeking sustenance from the earth

Moving without a sound



Through the gray-green filaments

Blood of ages pass

Dazzling colors and nutrients

That spill in bloom at last



We are become much like the plant

Among the sand and stone

Who by survival must supplant

Infertile flesh and bone



And let the spirit’s winding roots

Sink deep into the soil

Producing green and vibrant shoots

That stretch through time and toil



Then our soul’s true colors seen

Among the brittle clay

Might be a fit bright offering

In heaven’s rich bouquet

© 2010 Fabian G. Franklin




AMERICA.. by Robert Luna

What happen to America

The land of the free, and the home of the brave

Now the unmarked grave

of the word HOPE

This is not my America

The land in which the brave become the homeless

and We the People

become a country of passive prey

Playing the part of a victim in a tragedy

that we helped write

We have no one else to blame

and no where else to turn

Allowing our so called government

to turn a deaf ear to our cries

As we say no more

NO MORE



As we scream it from the roof tops

to the dirty pavement that lays crumbling beneath our feet

We The People are America

I am America

You are America

WE are America

My brothers and sisters

This is a cry to every

woman, man, and child

Take up your weapons

because the war has begun

Do you not have a voice

Allow it to be heard

Sharpen your tongue

so your words may strike fear

let them know

We have had enough

Stop talking about United We Stand

For we can not stand united

if we allow fear to hold us in place

We must march

bear the burden of the unknown

We the People are the future

All rest upon our thick heavy shoulders

as we seize a new world

and refresh the spirit of America

Give the youth an understanding

They are not entitle to anything that they

themselves are not willing to fight for

It seems the words remain unspoken
provoking a change

That is why I continue to try to set this right

We are in the middle of a fight

it’s for our very lives

and We the People can no longer stand on the side lines

Hoping and praying this will pass in time

The time is now

We must some how find a way to make a change

before it is to late



So ask yourself What happened to our beloved America

The land where your freedom is for sale to the highest bidder
And the home of the braveless that would not stand up to fight

We must carry on

and go forth

We the People

We must march

Bear the danger of uncertain

as it all rest upon us

and the choices we make

We the People must take upon the task

to make a change take place

and we can not give up without a fight

The time is now

stand

stand up

and be counted as one of

We the People

And let your voice be heard

© 2009 Robert Luna