Degrees


photo
Instead within trees
I whisper on my knees
below illuminated leaves
this struggle with
degrees.

See, you can see
the shades of gray
set between laughter of life
and each saddening stay.
But I’m blind to these shades of gray,
as a dictionary without a page.

Instead within trees
my spirit rages at defeat
unable to capture
degrees.

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Marching Little Men


Feel them under the surface
the little men
marching through these walls.
Can you hear their battle cries
echoing countless times?

Hold your hand to me
count the veins and arteries
Hold yourself to me
feel the banging artillery

Can you hear them,
over the volume of the day?
Even here where life fades away,
can you hear their battle cry?

These marching little men
don’t distinguish the living for the dead.

Feel them under the surface
fight against them all
There is no divide in healthy life
and the blight of the fall
There is no divide in what is
and what could be

Hold your hand to me
count the veins and arteries
Hold yourself to me
feel the banging artillery

Can’t you see the rhythm
pounding away,
pound my life away?
Can’t you see the poison
dripping into me,
drowning my life away?

These marching little men
don’t distinguish the living for the dead.
Just hold my hand,
even as we pray for a better day.

Just hold your hand to me
over the pounding battle cry,
and pray I wake instead
of the death that reigns inside.
Hold yourself to me
over the banging artillery,
and let in the dawn
bring me back to the way.


What I Take Orally


My cousin,
the dentist,
wouldn’t be pleased
with what I take orally.

White pills
to help my heart beat.
Yellow pills
to help circulation to my feet
caused by the white pills deceit.

Swallow whole the truth
among miracle drugs.
Empty pill bottles
are empty promises.
No cure in sight.
No voice to this plight.

My uncle,
the drug rep.,
would be pleased
with what I take orally.

Blue pills
to help my body reproduce.
Orange pills
to help my substance abuse
created from dependency to the blue pills’ juice.

Shepherded away from
concealed terminology.
Loaded medicine cabinets
are loading guns.
Tainted genes.
Tainted future generations.


P C O S


Edited by: Charlene V. Martoni

Pain pulsated my body

and the bloody flowed thicker

than ever before,

but I insisted to take control.

my monthly

my life, my body.

Clothes and clots

increased throbbing,

and by homeroom

multiple pads

and longing prayers

weren’t enough.

my monthly

my life, my body.

Overflow bleed through barriers

and a 2 by4 bathroom stall

was my only shelter

as my legs

my life grew weak.

my monthly

my life, my body.

Shaking and stained

I weep

unable to understand

how to gain control,

how to be ok.

my monthly

my life, my body

my infertility.


Introduction to a Sick Generation


Edited by: Charlene V. Martoni

Pills bed side, pills poolside

often do tell

lost innocence never sits too well.

 

Quantity over quality,

a sign of this generation

Quantity over quality,

a sick generation.

 

Never too sick, never too well

Feeble attempted fix

makes lives trapped in the mix.

 

Artificial over living

a pill popping generation

Artificial over living

a pill popping generation.

 

And its never a cure

in this sick generation.

Its only an introduction

to this pill popping generation.