$p@m p0em

hey dylan long time no speak
we are trying to contact you
haven’t heard from you in a while
feeling good is not a dream

don’t be inadequate anymore
don’t be the little guy in the club

the old is new again tasha
why is my sister in pain?
being your friend I’ll let you in on this
feeling great is possible

your partner will worship you for it
your true love is out there waiting for you

have you tried it cathy?
where will you be in four years?
become happy with your performance
feeling well is not a fantasy

we test so you don’t have to
we understand your condition because we’ve been there

how could it be easier carl?
why is my brother in pain?
where will you be in ten years?
feeling strong is not a luxury

your life could be bigger
you are lost as of september 30th 

feeling strong is one click away
feeling good is not a dream

J. Richard McLaughlin
richard_mclaughlin@hotmail.com

Upon Awakening

I snatched my dreams
and stuffed them in the empty peanut jar,
took it out to the kitchen,
and pored through them over tea.
What’s this mean?
And this?

I pondered causes and relationships
while the cat crapped in its box
and the clouds limped through the morning,
having everything to do with
one another.

J. Richard McLaughlin
richard_mclaughlin@hotmail.com

The Event Horizon

I have fallen, fallen deeply,
deeply beyond the horizon.
No longer to escape you
midnight black hole
of breathless purple gravity.

You have opened, opened slowly,
slowly the door to your darkness.
Enticed, invited, curious
cradle of light,
so willingly I tumbled in.

Secrets buried, buried with care,
care to keep your universe blue?
The bough that breaks shattered the light,
plunging gravely,
lulled and lost from wisdom’s view.

Submitted by Theresa

Music of the Spheres

I bask in it,
I bathe in it,
I exult in it.
It makes me whole.
It exalts me to a new
level of being.

What it is about my music that
lifts my spirits,
that encourages me to see beyond
my four walls,
that gives me new
energy?

I stand in front of the music,
swaying, dancing, stretching,
smiling,
even laughing,
delighting in my existence
at that moment.

Yet sometimes
tears come to my eyes,
as the music transcends beyond the moment
to the past, to special moments,
to heartache,
but also to happy times.

And even so,
tears come to my eyes.

Submitted by Betsy

The Ficus Tree

You arrived with a ficus
a living tree in my house
something new.

We moved the ficus to our house
dressed it up with lights
small white ones.

You watered it
Sundays and Thursdays
at least a thousand times.

Nourished to death,
no space to grow,
we moved the ficus out.

Uncontrollable growth,
no space remaining, and
motionless, they moved you out.

I bought a ficus the other day.
I water it
Sundays and
Thursdays,

of course.

Submitted by Theresa
theresa0714@comcast.net

Home Depot Lust

Ah ha!
I see you have your clipboard
and a pencil too.
You survey, walking slowly,
inspecting from all angles.
You bend, you climb, you crawl.
I watch – as your chosen instrument
moves across the page, filling spaces –
a gliding motion, a pause,
staccato scribbles, it glides again.

A new roof, you say, sometime next year.
And the chimney, a brick is loose.
We’ll need cement – just a bit
to hold it together.
The windows, you mention windows,
they must be scraped, caulked and painted.
Need some putty, too.
And the foundation – a shovel.
Keep that moist earth away from
the clapboards – or they’ll rot.

I smile, gently take the pencil
from your hand.
I say,
within this rigid shelter,
of sticks, stones and glass
a softer refuge breathes.
Mark me as you do your paper.
Fill my spaces.
Bend, climb, crawl into me.
Brush the dust away and seal my cracks.

Search deeply, seek them out, probe.
Smooth the uneven edges.
Mold and warm me with your finger tips.
Hold us together with your cement.
Cold and dampness rot my casings, too.
I am your house, you live in me.

Submitted by Theresa
theresa0714@comcast.net