Stephen Philip Druce… Television Apocalypse

Posted on June 26, 2016 by randomlyaccessedpoetics

Television Apocalypse

Television apocalypse –

the anarchic celebration,

the annihilationv

of the sweet invention,

now the devil`s mesmerising

mechanism,

television – a poisonous snake

slithering in a slime

on a prime time scour,

we are furniture leaches

for them to devour,

its venom renders

us dense to digest

mindless soaps for dopes

with subliminal hidden agenda`s,

with its sexist, most

politically correctist,

ham over-actors

for uncultured cattle

in a trough of x-factors,

the vultured staring,

the documentary violence

overbearing, the chicken korma

spilt in the t.v. remote battle

in the living room corner, five

star movies long vacated

for one star turkey`s

to feed the perceived

uneducated,

gunshots wake up

babies in their cots, etched

nightmares on the kids not

in bed yet, watch indiscretions

before the watershed, the university set

in unamusing stand up comedy –

abusing the slot, saved by

the canned laughter

we can all spot,

comedy shows discriminate

the working class

and are so unfunny

you need to smoke

grass,

the random flick through

of the channels – a bad decision,

nudity on when the parents

are there, an unexpected

surgeon`s incision scare,

television –

the five minutes of fame

ambition, to be a celebrity

with only the brains for

infantile games, showbiz shames

television –

sport overkill, overspill,

no fun – overdone,

television hurts –

its breaking twenty four hour

news, coshes a brainwashed bruise

upon my t.v. weary head,

twenty four minute adverts

kill me dead,

traffic cop shows with

cameras persecute the motorist

and lecture headmaster style,

twist the driver`s words and

put them in a statement file,

stop them without probable cause –

just to harass, no consent to search

but the cop just ignores and expects

them to kiss his ass, television –

deserved of our derision, the over-hype,

the over-sell, the over-ripe, the t.v. hell,

but now it`s time to intervene, let`s

smash up the old, the new, the portable

and the flat screen, this cheap, crude

heap of repeated multi-channels grim,

this sacrilege is a sin.

Stephen Philip Druce is a poet/humour poet/ humour essayist published in the UK, USA, Canada and India. In August 2015 he signed an ebook deal with Tri Screen Connection in The USA – with his British style humour book of Absurd and nonsensical essays – QUIRKY SHORTS. link here – http://www.web-e-books.com/index.php#load?type=author&product=62

To hear Stephen read his poems/humour poems link here http://youtu.be/nLBrHCkeSMg

Copyright © 2016 by Stephen Philip Druce

Pijush Kanti Deb… Bearing A Grudge

Posted on December 20, 2015 by randomlyaccessedpoetics

Bearing A Grudge

Bearing a grudge-

a poor intention of a heart,

maybe, rich in good wishes

but ought not to be run down,

in putting two and two together

one can see eye to eye

with the mortals and the immortals,

“Bearing a grudge is sin-less.”

The morning –air-

free of dust and dirt

but not of grudges.

Temple, church and mosque-

the devotional catapults,

start throwing grudges

of all professionals and their counterparts,

wrapped with contradictory prayers,

filling the air and the sky with

the sound of the silent grudges,

“More please—No more please.”

Ought not to be surprised at all,

even the prayer-loving God

forgets to make a figure

and stands in the crowd for a prayer-

full of grudges expressing His longings,

“More sorrows— More prayers.”

Pijush Kanti Deb Occupation—Associate Professor in Economics. Achievement: More than 120 poems and haiku are accepted or published by Indian and international publishers since June 2013. They are, Tajmahal review, Camel Saloon Blog Spot, E-pao.Net, Dead Snake Blog Spot, Down in the Dirt, Poetic Monthly Magazine, Poems and Poetry Blog Spot, Poetry 24 Blog Spot, Long Story Short , Gean Tree Haiku Journal, My Word Wizard, and A Handful of Stones , Kalkion, ,Verse Engine ,The Apple Tree ,High Coupe , Madswril,Whisper, Mel Brake Press, The Voice Project ,Vox poetica, Kritya, Criterion,Calvary Cross . Muse India ,Busting and Droning Magazine, Pennine Ink , The Artistic Muse, Guwahatian and Shayari.mobi.

Copyright © 2015 by Pijush Kanti Deb

Bozena Helena Mazur-Nowak… Sunrise at the Seaside

Posted on December 13, 2015 by randomlyaccessedpoetics

Sunrise at the Seaside

wrapped by the night

swathed in a shawl of memories

filled with love

I froze on an empty beach

with feet mired in the soft sand

staring into the abyss of the sea I can see how

a soft golden-orange sphere

emerges slowly, and majestically rises

spreads its arms above the horizon

cold night slowly dissolved in deep blue depths

golden rays bring warmth and hope

surfing on the backs of the waves

tenderly stroking the coastal rocks

tearing through pine branches

pouring on the dunes

tickling crumbs of amber and shells

scattering on the beach

enriched by the another dawn

ready for sparring with a new day

I prepare my heart for another lonely night

Bozena Helena Mazur-Nowak was born in 1958 and comes from Opole (Poland). In search of work she migrated to the UK. She lives in Merstham near London. Verses author, translated by herself into English, published in the U.S. Canada, Australia and the UK. Were read in an Australian Radio. She was a poet issue” in March 2013 “in the quarterly” New Mirage Journal “(USA). Her work has been presented in Writing The Polish Diaspora (USA). In July 2013 a book of selected poems in English, was released under the auspices of the International English Association (IPPA), based in London (UK). This new book is a collection of love poems. It is touching, and lyrical. This collection is special because it establishes that Helena Bozena Mazur-Nowak is skilled in writing and translating her poetry into English. Her work is simple and accessible, but lyrical and well crafted. The poet has many close contacts with poets all over the world, and has been invited to participate in exciting international poetic endeavors. She is glad that her poetry is appreciated and also understandable to readers without “Polish roots.” In May, in Canada 2014 was published her latest book ”Blue Longing”.

B.Z. Niditch… 20/20

Posted on October 18, 2015 by randomlyaccessedpoetics

20/20

Fervent

to explore miles

all that’s out

with Beat Poet eyes,

the Beatles,

now in Japanese

Dylan Thomas

Spinning with us

by the bee colony

investigation

out on the islands

close to lyrics,

at first shy

then exploding

in optimum visions.

B.Z. Niditch is a poet, playwright, fiction writer and teacher who resides in Brookline, Massachusetts. His work is widely published in journals and magazines throughout the world, including:Columbia: A Magazine of Poetry and Art; The Literary Review; Denver Quarterly; HawaiiReview; LeGuepard (France); Kadmos (France); Prism International; Jejune (Czech Republic); Leopold Bloom (Budapest); Antioch Review; and Prairie Schooner, among others. His latest poetry collections are “Lorca at Sevilla”,”Captive Cities.”

Joanna Conom… How I Finally Learned to Make Fruit Salad

Posted on June 14, 2015 by randomlyaccessedpoetics

How I Finally Learned to Make Fruit Salad

children of the victors have heroes and flags but no tales

children of the victims hold the memories in hearts and stories

in the christian genocide which was not so named a man could watch

his children tied limb by limb to four horses while dismembered or

tossed in the air and shot the women used in all ways not be returned

men did and were done to with what they did in war

my grandfather told me these stories even as I covered my ears

houses burned while owners escaped then disappeared anyway

all they retained was misery suspicion grief and story no one wanted to hear

all the shiny things were kept by the victors to be digested by sunny children

who heard only fairy tales of things past victors who seemed

when I first met one to be of oddly good cheer a friendly generous soul

who had never heard of genocide in school had lots of

friends at his table spread thick with foods I had never tasted

and could not help myself we all stuffed ourselves with

the forbidden talk and food and music of childhood tales

all night I could not sleep wondering how I had eaten

the food of others memories without poisoning

from such indulgence so I called the next day begging for recipes

to be prepared with a big dash of story and small sprinkle of guilt

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