What’s Wrong – By Panos Douvos
WAYS TO FILL HOLES – By Chaya Silbertstein
Owed to the Children – By John Kertisz

Roger Houston

My Cat, Athena – By Mary Getlein

What’s Wrong
By Panos Douvos

What have we done wrong
we only protect our national (oil) interests
bribe an Arab goon king or two
what’s wrong with that

are they angry at our SUV’s and heavy wallets
why are these dark Arab peasants upset
if they have a problem
we’ll squash them like bugs
what’s wrong with that

we steal their human basics
back their goon-leaders
but they’re our goon-leaders
what’s wrong with that

they have a beef we sound the drums
send in the back and brown boys
preserve our oilocracy
loot their lands pollute the world
they look at us cross-eyed
we nuke their ass
what’s wrong with that

so it is true
dad owns oil in Saudi-Arabia
dad owns Devil’s-brand oil wells
and come tomorrow will own
the whole heil world

what’s wrong with that
By Chaya Silberstein

Plant flowers in the hole.
If nothing grows, its okay.
Something will grow eventually, maybe.
If nothing grows, maybe it’s best to leave the hole empty.
There’s lots you can do with emptiness.
You can listen to its sound:
the stillness of a butterfly before it flaps its wings
or a ladybug hitching a ride on your leg.

There is so much love everywhere.
Don’t try to stuff it in the emptiness
or you will miss the glorious tapestry
spread all around you.

When feeling empty,
it is good to be still.
Owed to the Children
By John Kertisz

In this time of trials
Confusion & Tribulation
There is one thread
Of reason to live

For our children
Who know they have done no wrong
And wonder why they are here
In this world
With our rhymes seasons
games to play
Lies to tell and die
For country & power

What is it all about
Is that all there is
No time no money
For Art-Beauty-Culture

Only time for oil tobacco drugs
Fires tornadoes
and shuttles to places
No one can live

The time is now here
To listen to our children
And give to them
Trees flowers peace & Love
14:45 Saturday, October 11th, 2008, Abbot’s Library, Venice ….. The hours peel
like onion skins. In layers. An hour is removed, and no one cares. Another hour
looms. We move toward. The swift point of departure. Turn the card. The minutes
will coagulate. To form A simple eye. The calm before the Storm. Chronology
links to eternity. In both directions. Far as one can see. I took a nap.
Awakened to perform. Another function. Bring this hour full term. A beaded
necklace. Stranded to afford. The luxury of daylight. And a word. That needs not
to be spoken. Go upstairs. Look down upon this slow parade of hours ….. Roger
Houston, during my metaphysical cavalier period. Trick or Treat!
My Cat, Athena

My cat sailed off the balcony
she was plotting it for weeks
she’d lay out there, looking down
through the iron fence that measured the balcony.
she would flirt with danger
and possible death
I saw her tiptoeing on the outside of the fence,
up on the side walls, up and looking back at me
like a naughty child
I didn’t really think she would do it
but one night I came home – she was gone
did she survive the flight?
down to the bushes to hide
like she did in our old house –
I thought she was a goner . . .
Two nights later I came home and heard mewing
she came running out and I scooped her up,
ran up the stairs, and put her by the food and water.
she drank water for ten minutes.
I was so happy
Greta said to block up the fence,
because knowing her, (the cat),
she would probably do it again.
so I used two art-boards and some wood
spoiled her view of things
but it is saving her life . . .
she’s become very cuddly since her flight.

– Mary Getlein
Mary's Cat                                                                                          Above: Drawing by Mary Getlein


Categories: Poetry