Dragon Slayer (poem)


Mohamed Nohassi

…and in the midst of it all
stood a man
quaking at the knees
fires burning on the horizon
fanned by the wind
dance in his eyes
there’s a sword in his hand
a mage’s staff in the other
a dragon lay dead at his feet
the acrid smell of smoke
and cinders dance in the air
there is stills screaming
the damage the dragon had done
has yet to be fully realized
the scar on his chest
broken and bruised bodies scattered
his lover, still missing
dawn is hours away, still
as he licks his lips
with a papery tongue, thirsty
his heart still hammering away
sweat, piss, fear, the stink of decay
He doesn’t know what to do
he jealously regards to the dragon
he’s so tired, so very tired
the castle is half destroyed behind him
there’s nothing but uncertainty
from his moment, onward
What was that?
His nerves jump, his heart plummets
a cry of dismay emerges from his parted lips
it takes a moment to register
the smallest change in the air
something sweet, perfumed, merciful
the first drop, the second,
the thirty third before his shoulders relax
and as the sky opens up
his knees give and he sinks
to weep, the child of many moons passed
can finally express itself
his tears mingled with the rain,
washing his soul clean
“I’m okay. I’m okay,”
he says over and over
shuddering wildly, trembling
convincing the world, the dragon,
as he hangs suspended
in between life and death
warrior and weak
as heaven breaks over his
supplicant tremulous form

Accidental Druid (poem)


Inja Pavlić


deep shadow
has crept across the face of the world
there is a stirring deep in the bowels
of the world
a drum beat
My dreams have been disturbing as of late
familiar faces – in moments of desperation
begging for help or saying goodbye

Then there are the names
Putin, Assange, Un,
and I am where they are watching
briefly whatever business
they are up to
listening to those around them speak

I wake from sleep gasping
anxiety grips my heart
and dims my eyes
I try to break my connection
with the unseen stream of consciousness
but i can’t

I can tast the fear on the air
the anxiety shimmers in the sunlight
something wicked this way comes
comes and comes again
like ocean swells against a levee

The world is in pain
and having found no solace
in daylight nor dreams
I can feel her
She’s afraid
and because of that
I, this accidental Druid
am dying

Sweet autumn morning (poem)

matthew-pla-29577 (1)

Matthew Pla

sweet autumn morning
strumming guitars
sad songs and dappled sunlight
mint in my tea, a stray gray hair
conversations hushed over 
a gentle current of spiced air

wistfulness, theme
the taste of cinnamon and apple
in my breakfast bowl
dust motes dance in shafts of light
my barefeet on the carpet
fingers tapping out the heartbeats
in my study

one more laugh line
two doses of fish oil as I stretch
fingers twisting upward
swoop down, namaste
gentle on myself
as the indian summer breeze
caressing the curtains
of my windows

cardboard box, napping cat
at my feet, a napping dog
beef stew in a dutch oven
served over rice
a glass of wine
a kiss from my husband
before night descends
and we descend with it


I am not your homo (poem)


Derek Owens
i am not your homo
your self promo
your private dancer
or your reason to go on

drown it in gold
its still only a cover
you cannot fathom the essence
of the material deep inside

the only way to expose it
is to expose you
when you stand inside your truth
we meet at an intersection of our


without that all else is caricature
a golden calf paper mache
pretty to look at but void of the inside
even when filled with candy

No god

shake it till it breaks
shatter it
bleed it out
lay it on the floor

get down on your hands and knees
and search through the mess
you still don’t get it do you?
you can’t claim what you’ve never possessed
what you never had rights to

i am not your homo
your non committal fun on a friday night
I’ve already had trick daddy days
that, should you have witnessed it,
still couldn’t articulate

I am not your homo
I don’t belong to you
he don’t belong to you
we don’t belong to you
We are ours and ours alone

Freebirds fleeing your gilded cage

Questions for Evangelicals (Pence Poem)

will you murder me?
swing, swing, from the Maple tree.
I married a man
will he swing next to me?
we said I do – in Iowa
will our ashes be spread there
is that a courtesy you offer?
thoughts and prayers for our hell bound souls

Will you murder me?
Like you allow black men to be murdered?
will there be words like, “If they just changed,”
in the debates on social media
hashtag say their name?
hashtag they were to blame
hashtag Leviticus, faggot

Will you murder me?
Will Fox News and MSNBC differ
will Rachel Maddow lament
no wait – they’ll kill her too
Will Sean Hannity be the apologist
as he tosses a football off screen

Will you murder me?
I’m ready. It’s like a slow boil
I’m ready to rock steady
but do me a favor
roll me in a grave with my brothers
when we haunt history’s pages
I want there to be a family portrait

Call yourselves what you want
spin this however you want
praise the Lord, and get the rope
regardless of rank and station
Evangelical dissertations in front of the Hague
when America is Liberated by some country
with more empathy than the geriatric voting base that voted you in
to them, and me, you’ll be nothing but killers

Fall from Grace (poem)




all at once I was fifteen feet below
kicking, flailing, lungs on fire
I was dropped in the middle of the ocean
after I fell to my humanity from heaven
lead weights of betrayal around my ankles
black water all around me
I could see the sunlight just beyond the surface
turning the water above my head green

Deals with God, please don’t let me die
Deals with Devil, please don’t send me back
I found pockets of oxygen
in the beds of other men, begging them
please don’t send me away
then, I would depart on my walk of shame
down their driveway
kicking my way up

I’d used my youth, and my youth was used
and my face, and my dreams, and my body
as I discovered the truth about me
I was needy, and hungry, and lonely
and terribly insecure
I accepted these things
and the shackles one by one, broke

I kicked hard, to the surface
black spots dancing before my eyes
brain screaming at me to take a lungful
of water
the familiar taste of salt from the sea
my heart beat, thumped, railed, against
it’s steel cage – a lone drummer’s insurrection

freedom was inches from my face
until finally I crashed through that membrane
and all at once, I was free
sweet air, lungfuls, belly breaths
til all at once i came back to me
there I was floating on my back
face skyward – all alone on the sea

Filos (Poem)


the clouds drift
in blue skies above my head
pirate ships in silent sailing masts filled
golden sunlight
kisses my body 
in midst of wildflowers and tall grasses
buzzing sounds
as sweet as a lullaby

lay next to me
interpret with me
the holy writ in the stars we can’t see
and let us disagree
and laugh
romance isn’t just for sex
nor for lovers
be my friend first
and be willing to stay here

Water, air
let me breathe
inhale who you are, feed me
and I’ll roar when you need inspiration
I’ll burn away perceived imperfections
be the mother, brother, spouse
to my soul
friend and I’ll return to you

Let us ponder the spider’s silk
inches away from our faces
suspended between blades of grass
and wonder at it
let us write poetry dedicated
to Gaia – mother – the dust
from where we’ll return
there’s no war here
to contest
let us keep each other close
without complications

passion can be pure
no sin
no hurt feelings in golden shafts
of God’s presence
am I selfish?
not when the crickets sing, friend
not when clouds have angels wings
can we map this out?
and laugh at the babbling brook
laying head to head
watching the world pass us by?

the clouds pass by
sunsets come and burn the sky
lightning bugs rise from the ground
and spirits walk
love me – filos
and like the stone, or the tree planted
by the water
I shall not be moved

Betrayal (poem)





the big billboard
lit up brightly
on the highway
of my mind 
and morning song
that rouses
me from my sleep
forces my hand
to steer the car
over to the side
of the road.
There, in bold
red letters scrawled
my redrum
twenty feet high
thirty five feet across
illuminated by glaringly
bright white light
I feel the first
of the emotions
associated with the word

the sticky heavy thick feeling
like it isn’t dark
like the freeway isn’t mine
like someone
could drive by any moment
and see me sitting
on the hood of the car
knees tucked
under my chin
and see me
with the radio in the car
blaring out
with open doors
and the dome light on
the song crescendos
and falls silent
leaving nothing else
to play but the
wind, the crickets,
and the rattle of an engine

It all comes
down to this one thing
the heart of it all
the epicenter
the truth that I
didn’t factor at all
in their equations
forgotten and willfully so
I become see through
on the hood
why, when, how, who, what
all cease to matter
paling to the red letters
a ghost
I take them into me
giving me substance
forcing upon me
unnecessary courage
under the early
October sky

Tis the Season for Rock and Roll (poem)


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dance in the morning
when it’s seven a.m
and the dog is on the leash
with sleep still slowing my limbs

Then the percussion kicks in
and a smile slides onto my face
as i hum along and my stride lengthens
and my blood begins to wake my stiff sore legs

it’s October now and like the change
in the seasons
my taste in music alters as the summer
wind cools
and the shadows lengthen
I need something more dynamic
to reach me where the sunlight wanes

Rock and Roll
with Tina’s steely voice and Janis’
raw sexuality
and Bob Seger’s Night moves ready me
for the season of cold nights
and lovemaking

Before my first cup of coffee
I’ve danced to Boston
lip synced to Steve Perry
and was your private dancer
in this sick cycle carousel
this record player we call life

Coming To (poem)

Coming To

An F.e.Feeley Jr / Dan Stone poem


I’m giving back the ring.
It’s the last “no” to the questions
we could never answer,
the ones we never asked.
The last step outside
the circle we could
never really manage
to complete.
It’s our fade to black,
our exit stage left and right.
Consider it a token
of regret, a not so
fond farewell,
my “J’ai fini.”


How were we strangers?
When I know you down
to the scar on your hip
and your cool gray eyes
when i got down on one knee
I tasted the salt on your mouth
and now this ring, a token not of
regret but all that was broken
between two men
How did this happen?
This Au Revior
but there is no good in goodbye
J’en ai fini avec toi


You would go there,
bring your lips to my ear
and whisper what I’ll miss,
make this ache even more,
remembering how you kissed
that scar, convinced me
it would heal
when all we did
was tear the tender pieces
of our faith apart,
demonstrate how much
we both misunderstood.
I can’t forget your hand
resting on my heart,
your sighs in your sleep,
your feet warming mine,
but I’ll still make that claim
and wish I could.


I see,
I saw what you did there,
took what I said what I felt
and made it into war
this isn’t about disunity
this is about fear
of letting go of what you were
before we met
of what that braided claddah white gold ring meant
we joined more than nethers to nethers
we became a consecrated union of souls
where I must die and you must die
to birth something new and you now
circumspect, suspicious, and beautiful
blame me if you must and lie to yourself
but there is no forgetting as there is no unloving,
no unwinding of what we’ve done


What would you have me do?
If our scaffolding
still stands,
our bridges haven’t burned
why are you just
standing there,
me over here
both lobbing
weightless words
and turning phrases,
talking what we
cannot hear
or find a way
to wander through?
Where was your certainty
when I needed you
to hold it—me—close,
to bend so we don’t break?
Could it be
we only comprehend
the fear, the grip
and gasp of death
the mess we make
and not the labor,
not the long deep breath
needed after birth?


put my ring on
is what I’d have you do
as the bow has broken
and the cradle has shattered
on the floor
our masks are stripped away
leaving us more naked
in each other’s eyes than
the bed we’ve shared
I do hold you
as I’ve held you
as I’ll always hold you
I know no certainty, no vow,
no prayer
and without you no pride of place
except for the burning in my gut
and the wretched wraiths of loneliness
howling between my ears , now
I know. I know!
Curse you and damn you!
What would I have you do?
Love me and live and die for me
and kiss and cry and bleed for me
and let us breathe only the air
that exists between us
And the mess we’ve made


Is this the truth
we’ve wrung from
both our hands,
dug up from our
trench of frowns
our balled up fists?
Could we just now
be coming to?
Are you just now
seeing me unclothed,
unarmed, unbound
by all I hoped
you’d never see,
and are you telling me
it’s what you’ve waited for?
I never knew.
I never even dreamed
this nakedness
could be enough.
I hope this hope,
this match we’ve struck
is all it seems, more
than everything
I’ve been afraid to want,
the blood the sweat
the sweet the salt
the flesh and bone,
a love that rockets
through the midnight sky,
this sun and moon
rising, setting
in our eyes,
this ring back on,
this making up.