She reaches out for a familiar embrace, it seems

simply out of habit,

a normal show of affection towards the man she loves.

Suddenly she stops.

One hand slides inside her pocket, the other lifts her drink

and her smile fades.

She removes her stare from his back and looks to the stage,

he remains oblivious.

Not knowing anything had happened or any feelings showed

they watch in silence.

Come Out for a Drink

By Ali Whorley

Come out for a drink

You can just have one,

Don’t overthink

No harm is done.

You can just have one

But one leads to two,

No harm is done

In a shot that is blue.

One leads to two

My drink is laced,

In a shot that is blue

I collapsed on my face.

My drink is laced

I fell for his bait,

I collapsed on my face

This isn’t a date.

I fell for his bait

Don’t overthink,

This isn’t a date

Come out for a drink.

In a wake of passing thought

          I feel a wave of long regret

                   invoking flames within my heart.

It bites and fights to bring the dead

          and with a rush of rolling dread

                   the surface seals above my head.

There goes the light,

          at last it’s gone,

                   the dark creeps in, within my bone.

I drowned today

          not lacking air,

                   but in a pool of black despair.

Tomorrow I will breath again,

          a ripple maybe, where the wake had been.

Austrian antelope puree the cantaloupe.

Brazilian bats roll bread dough out until it’s flat.

Canadian colts cream fresh dried oats.

Dominican dolphins take out the oven baked muffins, so they can soften.

European eels stir fry shrimp on the grills.

Finland flamingoes stuff fat filled fajitas, and serve adult guest with margaritas.

German giraffes give orders to the cooking staff.

Hungarian herring do the salad stirring.

Irish red ibus sculpt massive bulk ices.

Jamaican jackals machete coconut and make the sound of crackle.

Kenyan kangaroos pour veggies in the kitchen stews.

Leone lemurs cool down chicken broth steamers.

Madagascar minks clean food out of sinks.

Norwegian nightingales store away food pails.

Ookala orangutans freeze beans and brown grain.

Peruvian peacocks pack to-go plates and cakes.

Qumran quails position seafood lobster tails.

Russian rams simmer sweet candied yams.

Sicilian seals professionally garnish dessert meals.

Turkish trout churn butter about.

Uganda unicorns shuck ears of fresh corn.

Venetian vultures prepare ethnic food for different cultures.

Warsaw wildebeest attentively observe the guest feast.

Xijang Xenops sprinkle seasoning on baked pork chops.

Yugoslavia yaks put food on tray racks.

Zambian zebras add zest and zing with slices of tangerine.

Tumultuous Childhood with No End
No Direction in Which to Send
Me to a Place of Confidence
To Believe I’m More Than Happenstance
Search for my Identity
To Leave the Harsh Reality
Behind

Forward Moves on Paths Directed
By a Power
Unaffected

Leads me to my Children Born
From my womb
They come adorned
With my Love

Fragrance None that can Compare
To the Smell of Newborn Hair
I Breath it In

Nestled Safely in my Arms
Promise to Protect from Harm
Understand
Why I was Born

To Effect Them

Into Being
Kind and Caring Loving Feeling
Always Sharing Never Harming
Gentle Souls

Just a Mom I’ve Now Become
Maybe Not Enough for Some
Though for Me
It Could not Be
Any Better

Than These Years That Have Gone By
Caring for You
You Know Why

Because I Love You

Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep
I Pray Thee Lord My Soul to Keep
And All My Children
Safe from Harm
Until Together
In Your Arms

When she laughs it’s like the sound of beautiful musical notes,

Like a thousand splintering sunrays cascading into sparkling pieces around you,

Out of the mouth of babes . . .

But thoughts of a shaky, uncertain future in an increasingly less democratic, more totalitarian society,

Give to the rich, take from the poor, ever increasing oligarchic society,

Has got my throat clogged.

I take temporary solace in a child’s laughter, all the while fearing  that  society will eventually,

Clog her throat?

call me Judas—

the betrayer with a

dirty sack of coins

between my legs, running

call me Pontius Pilate—

the eclipsed moon

cannot disguise

streams of rose petals

dripping into a bowl

of clear water as I

hide within this stone chamber

away from the populace

call me

the pages were dirty,

a Southside kid

without clear comprehension,

did you see me as this?

it is no doubt

I am misunderstood

I misunderstood

sorrow, I pray,

the halls of the

Basilica sponge

my prayer

unanswered prayer

for forgiveness,

understanding that

God has made us—

yes, you and I—

flawed

and things cannot be

unwrought

even in Joseph’s

workshop

is there strength in

this friend,

or even greatness?

tendril-feelers

sense this

I reach out

a sensation

to call

The little boy with brown hair

standing there as a regression in time

            a bright red balloon in one hand,

a bouquet of flowers dipping down onto the dusty floor in the other—

deep ocean blues, glowing sunset reds pulsing magically at his feet—

smiling, waiting for tata to rush through the crowded arrival gate,

the boy sees him pushing through as if escaping a reprimand,

he reaches to pick the boy up as if trying to save him from falling,

at last, kisses and hugs wash over the boy like warm, summer rain

and he expresses in Polish

the pain of absence

the ache of this impedes anything more.

—contrast—

The crowd of strangers

with strange eyes—

seemingly distrusting and disappointed glares

meet him like a wall of wind,

pushing his luggage and body away

toward an empty space in the awaiting area—

was there no one to greet him, welcome him?

where was the little boy?

And then a figure appears,

a shadow of the past—

the large Polish man waves him over,

greets him with a formal część and handshake—

a welcoming absent of family-style cheek-kisses nor enveloping hug—

then, the lone, long ride to the approved meeting place

lets him drift into the mist and daydream

the fields of shocking-yellow mustard flowers enhance the vision

the little boy with flowers runs to him from a distance

he is never able to match the rushing speed,

both lost in the blur of the moment

so far away from substance

mental fingers gripping the edge.

Do you see change as progress or the absence of a dollar bill?
There are those who would kill for the change some change could fulfill
However many strains remain to contain your brain
If we educated history the events wouldn’t change
We teach ourselves the failures of man yet operate the same
They only stop for red octagons they don’t stop for what I say
See every change has a cost lost profits for those who pay
We avoid the beneficial if the man with the Benjamins isn’t the beneficiary
What that means is our greed reigns supreme
Human nature the fumes and vapors smoke and mirrors
Open clearer and revoke the fear of losing change to make change
Only knowledge brings power currency is currently diverting me
But I would be worry free if I didn’t need it just to further me
See I debit for my credits exchanged paper for my textbooks
Until I’m smothered in my dues feeling like my neck’s hooked
It’s ironic the information you pursue is right in front of you
Free of charge at large but the problem isn’t school
Our mentality teaches us to think of money first it’s almost surreal
Still, do you think of change as progress, or the absence of a dollar bill?

Everything is so new,

Colors and objects to view.

Inside the womb,

Was equivalent to a tomb.

So dark…hearing only mutter,

She would move to give a flutter.

Now all is so unfamiliar,

Although voices and movement seem similar,

I’m not sure what’s surpassed,

First she’s calm, but chaos comes last.

She’ll find new comfort around her,

Sometime will take, being she’ll demur.

Real feelings of love and emotion,

Nestled in Momma’s arms, knowing devotion.

This girl has now entered our world so open and pure,

For her love is so new to us, it is truly a cure,

To anything poison in our mind,

Look closely at your child, it isn’t hard to find.

That love and empathy like no other,

Blessed only with child is her Father and Mother.